We Belong IV: Growing Forward
by mj2007
Summary: A year and a half after George Weasley's marriage, Alf is adjusting to changes in family and friends, while CJ continues to deal with a secret that could mean life or death.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This story is a continuation of the We Belong Series. If you haven't read parts 1-III, you're probably going to be pretty confused. If you have read the series, be advised that there is a time jump here, to just before Alf's third year at Hogwarts.

WWWWWWW

WE BELONG IV

August 17, 2011

It had been a little more than a year since the wedding of George Weasley. From the outside, not so much seemed changed at their house in Godric's Hollow. A year is, in the grand scheme of things, not so long a time.

But if it's the difference between twelve and thirteen, or in the case of Alfred Weasley, nearly thirteen and a half, the difference could be huge.

Alf and CJ were in the back yard on brooms. Their second year had come, and gone, mostly uneventfully, save for one major event for Alf: Ravenclaw had won the house cup, thanks in no small part to his performance as the full time keeper. Now CJ was determined to make his house team, as a chaser. He and Alf had spent most of the summer essentially playing chicken with each other, hours and hours of CJ attempting to get a quaffle past Alf.

"And if I ever even think…" CJ had warned. "…that you're taking it easy on me, I will _kill_ you."

"CJ, there are a lot of things I'd do for you, but let a quaffle past me will never be one of them!" Alf had laughed back.

So in other words, it had been a long summer for both George and Michelle, as dangerous mishaps seemed to be _just_ avoided, at least twenty times a day.

On this day, they had been at it for a solid four hours after lunch. As CJ bore down on Alf, Alf waited to respond, and their eyes locked. CJ went to toss the quaffle left; Alf went right, familiar with the feint CJ had been working on for a month. But this time, CJ rolled the toss over his hand and sent it back left.

"BUGGER!" Alf cursed, as he just missed the play.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssssssssss!" CJ whooped triumphantly.

"You two!" George yelled up at them, his hands on his hips, shaking his head with a fond smile. "You're going to forget to walk if you're not careful. Now get down from there…we're off to the Burrow in half an hour!"

Alf and CJ zipped quickly down to the ground, laughing. "Okay, so you got what, five scores in four hours?"

"I figure five against you is twenty against a normal keeper." CJ retorted. "Besides, now I've seen all your best moves." They put their brooms away in the garden shed, and then their eyes glinted at each other.

"RACE YOU!" They said together, and ran full tilt towards the house, Alf just beating CJ to the kitchen door.

"Masters!" Dixie shook her head. "You will makes yourselves sick, Sirs!"

"Not likely, Dixie." Michelle looked up from the table, where she was mapping out her lesson plans for the fall. "They move far too fast for sickness to catch them."

"Showers, both of you!" George said, as he followed the boys into the house.

Alf turned immediately and gave George a crushing full body hug, as if trying to rub as much sweat off on him as possible. George yelped in protest, laughing the whole time. "CJ, a hand here?" He begged.

CJ had paused in the door, leaning against the sill with a smirk of amusement. "Or I could seize the opportunity to get into the shower first." He pointed out. And, as he saw Alf suddenly pull up short from sliming George, CJ thundered up the stairs, to be followed by Alf in hot pursuit. The entire house shook with their effort.

"Ugh!" George was holding his hands up and looking down over his now quite rumpled and dirty person.

"Hm." Michelle raised her wand with a smile and a flick, cleaning George's clothes and freshening him up. "Better?"

"Indeed." George came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and kissing her head tenderly. His hands went to her mid-section, five month's swollen with their child; those hands stayed in a gentle caress over her. The baby she carried responded with a kick as if it felt George's efforts. "Feeling well, love?"

"Perfect." She leaned back against him, shutting the folder she was working on. "What time is Molly expecting us?"

"No later than 6. Plenty of time for our wild animals to scrape the dirt off." He came around and sat by her. "Are you sure you're up to a picnic tonight?"

"As long as we floo." Michelle had discovered quickly that apparating while pregnant had the same effect as sticking her face in a vat of curdled milk would. She gathered all her lose papers and packaged them neatly in an envelope. "There…that's settled."

Michelle had opted not to teach this year at Hogwarts. The baby was due in December, and she didn't feel right about leaving her class mid-year. Next year, she would go back on a part time bases, focusing only on the advanced healing classes and turning muggle studies over to a new professor. Hopefully the interim professor would work out…her eyes twinkled at George. "Are you sure your father can handle a class full of kids?"

"Hell, he handled us!" George chuckled. When Michelle had hit Minerva with the news about the baby, and her future plans, the Headmistress had worried about ever finding somebody with the sort of muggle/magical credentials that Michelle had. Arthur had gotten wind of it, and immediately decided that the retirement from the ministry he'd been thinking about really was overdue. "I don't know why none of us ever thought Dad could do this before."

"Well, I've set out the lesson plans for him, for all the years. He can always come to me or to Hermione with questions, I guess." She pouted a little. "I might be just a tad stir crazy this fall, George…I've never not worked."

"Just stay out of my kitchen, is all I ask." He teased as he turned around to where several pies were waiting to be transported.

"You are so not a normal man." She stuck her tongue out at him.

CJ came downstairs then, freshly showered and hair still damp. "Alf's in now." He sprawled in the chair opposite Michelle. "Is it true that Teddy will be back?"

George looked fondly over the young man who was now totally a part of the family. The passage of time had been kind to CJ…he was wiry still, and hadn't yet filled out, but he was over five six now, and he looked more like his brother every day. Now that he no longer lived with a maniac, the lines of worry had eased from his face, and his smile was genuine and took less impetus to appear. If occasionally George noticed a haunted look fill the boy's eyes, he chalked it up to still having to battle the demons of his past.

"Yeah, Teddy will be there." Harry's god-son had been gone for the entire summer with Andromeda, on a Mediterranean tour . "Bill says Victoire hasn't shut up about it for a week."

CJ snorted. "She starts Hogwarts this year, doesn't she? I don't know how Teddy will handle it if she sorts into Gryffindor…he'll have a permanent shadow!"

George and CJ laughed together, while Michelle looked back and forth. "Why, does Victoire have a crush on Teddy or something?" They both turned and stared at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "Okay, I'll take that for a yes."

Alf came down the stairs, freshly cleaned. He was little changed from a year ago, now just a shade shorter than CJ, and was still thin as a reed. His hair had grown a tad longer, prompting him to have to perpetually dodge Molly and her trimming spells, but otherwise he was remarkably the same old Alf. Like George had done, he came up behind Michelle and hugged her. "You going to be okay in the floo?" He asked, looking very concerned.

"Heaven help me, pregnant and surrounded by men!" She groaned, but with a smile. "Alright, kiddo, help me up here and see if we can't waddle my fat body through the fireplace…"

"You're not FAT!" George, CJ and Alf said together, quite indignantly.

"Right." She looked town at her belly, which really did not appear so large yet. Well, it was only five months, still quite a ways to go on this journey. "However, if you let me carry those pies, I might well be fat by the time we get there."

"Alf, CJ…guard the pastry." George said at once, coming up to his wife and wrapping his arms around her, pinning her arms against her body. "I will do my best to control the wild pie thief."

"Gotcha, Dad." Alf answered, each boy taking a baked good, and together they headed towards the Burrow.

WWWWWWW

It was Percy's birthday.

Percy's hair was now decidedly thinning, and he was looking more and more like Arthur every day. It was perhaps fitting that he was stepping into Arthur's position within the ministry. A position that in Shacklebolt's continued successful run as Minister was growing in importance. Several trial liaisons were underway to unite muggle and wizard worlds, and Percy was now in charge of a small force of trusted wizards and witches trained to move smoothly between the two. One of them was Hermione.

His daughter Perri ran wildly over the yard, now four years old. His son was a smiling toddler who people naturally gravitated to. The poor child had remained unnamed for three weeks, because he and Penny simply couldn't agree on the right one for the boy. It was only while visiting Harry and Ginny, while George and Michelle were on their honeymoon, that a name had found him.

He and Penny were in the midst of another round of arguments on Arthur versus Albertus, which was her father's name. CJ had been cooing over the child, who was smiling despite the argument.

"_He doesn't look like an Albertus" Percy had protested._

"_What makes you think he looks like Arthur? He doesn't even have red hair!" Penny pointed out to the dark brown waves that graced the child's head._

_CJ hadn't missed a beat. "He looks like a Cedric."_

_It had stuck._

"AF! SEEEJAY!" Little Ced called out.

Sure enough, George's boys, as Percy thought of them, ambled out to the back yard, having just flooed. "Hey, Uncle Perce…how's the youngest doing?" Alf asked at once. CJ went immediately to the toddler, kneeling before the swing.

"Hey buddy…catch any snitches lately?"

"NITCH!" Ced said at once, reaching up from his seat in the swing up to the mobile above him, and correctly grabbing the snitch from the selection of Quidditch paraphernalia to choose from.

"ATTABOY!" Cedric said. "High five!" He said, using the expression he'd learned from Alf and Michelle.

Percy laughed, and came over next to Alf. "Where's your Dad?"

"Helping Miss Shell." Alf replied, reaching over for a chip. "She did fine with the floo, but Aunt Fleur came up to her with some special drink concoction she said she relied on, and it set her stomach right over." Alf wrinkled his nose a bit, then scanned over the back yard. "Teddy here yet?"

"Haven't seen him…why don't boys do your Gran a favor and help set up those tables. Last time Bill and Charlie did it, took over half an hour to put the legs back on."

"Gotcha." Alf nodded at CJ, who wiggled his nose once at little Cedric, and then rose.

"Right-o." They darted together over to the fields, and Penny came up to Percy. "They've grown quite a bit, but they still are boys, aren't they?" She asked, watching as the two young men tackled each other playfully the entire way towards where the tables were waiting to be set up.

"You were expecting them to turn in to girls?" Percy teased. Penny went to swat at his head, and he straightened out his glasses. "Seriously, Penny, don't know how to break this to you, but boys never really grow up." He looked across the lawn, to where Charlie and Bill were making a pair of chairs battle each other in the air.

"Especially not Weasley men, apparently." She sighed in resignation, and looked down to her young son. "Remember, Cedric, you're half Clearwater!"

WWWWWWW

Alf and CJ got the tables set up without too much incident, and were setting silverware out, chatting with each other over the din of the younger kids running around.

"Think Teddy will go out for his team?" CJ asked, as their thoughts turned back to Qudditch.

"Not sure. He was never as in to it as everyone else. And Gryffindor has six players returning from last year. It would be tough." Alf said. He paused, counting place settings. "I bet he's got some great travel stories, though. What was it you asked him to bring you back again?"

"Oh, uh, just anything he could find about the history of magical contracts." CJ tried to be off-hand.

"You thinking about a career in law suddenly?" Alf raised an eyebrow.

"Nah, just interested. Thinking about the contracts with house elves, actually."

Alf shrugged. He was fairly sure that CJ was lying to him, and he was also entirely sure that CJ wasn't going to tell him anything that he didn't want to. This all went back to the promise the four friends had made to each other, from the time when CJ was recovering from the violent attack he suffered from his father. He always told them there were things in his life they were going to have to trust him on. Alf imagined this would be one of those times.

"TEDDY!" Alf heard Victoire call out. "Look, Teddy is here."

"About bloody time." Alf joked, looking up. And then he froze.

Beside him, Alf felt CJ cone still, giving a low, "Bloody hell…Teddy?"

Alf and CJ may not have changed much in the past months. But for Teddy, the summer had made a noticeable difference.

Teddy had grown…well, he'd done that during the year, shooting up at an alarming rate, Alf thought. Entering school second year at just about 5-4, he'd finished the year at about 5'-8. Now, he was a good six feet tall.

But that wasn't all. He'd been a gangly, uncomfortable 5-8. Now he had filled out…obviously his summer sailing and hiking must have done that. Because he was more muscular; still thin, but strong and agile.

And he'd apparently decided on a favorite appearance. He was going with his natural face, mainly the features that his father had been known for, only he was a Remus Lupin who never had to deal with monthly illness. He'd chosen a golden brown for his eyes, and his hair was a dark blonde, streaked with highlights. He'd come back tan, and fit, and somehow much, much older than when he'd left.

Alf saw CJ rather uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck. Alf crossed his arms almost defensively over his own chest, which suddenly seemed deficiently thin. And then CJ squinted a bit, and grumbled. "Hell, I think he's _shaving_!"

"Hey, Guys!" Teddy saw them, and came ambling over. His smile at least was unchanged. But Alf couldn't help feeling rather insignificant suddenly. "You two been playing Quidditch all summer?" He teased, knowing them both well.

"Um…yeah. I take it not so much for you?" Alf asked.

Teddy gave a half laugh and a shrug. "Nah…spent a lot of time sailing on the Mediterranean…you should see some of the young witches there…Cannes… Barcelona…Italy! Man, were they hot!"

CJ and Alf looked back at each other, rather at a loss for words. Teddy sat down by the table, his long legs lounging in front of him. He glanced back over at the other kids playing ball. "Silly lot, aren't they?" He managed to sound amused and condescending at the same time. "Vicki's not out there with them, eh? Trying to act all grown up now that she's going to Hogwarts, I guess." He gave a slight smirk.

CJ muttered under his breath. "She's not the only one putting on an act."

Teddy ignored him. "I guess you're going out for Quidditch, eh, CJ? I don't think I will, actually; I think I want to focus properly on curse breaking. Lot's of lovely information I found this summer."

Alf looked over from Teddy and then back to CJ. "Find anything CJ had asked for?"

Teddy looked perplexed "Huh? Oh, yeah, I forgot. Still, not that big a deal, right? I mean, who uses those crazy contracts anymore?"

CJ's eyes became dark, deeply hooded, but he didn't say anything. Alf bristled at how cavalier Teddy was being. This whole evening was not turning out at all the way they had planned. Alf only hoped it didn't get any worse.

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY:

Well, tonight was interesting. Teddy came back from his summer travels, and is apparently now the second coming of Christian Bale. I see a long school year ahead of us.

Literally, Alf and I are goofing off in the back yard of the Burrow when he struts in...and I do mean strut. Somehow the git has managed to grow another four inches and he looks like he could be modeling for Abercrombie and Fitch. And instead of a plethora of goofy, mood indicating colors that he used to change his hair into as a joke, he has apparently decided to go mostly natural, only the natural that he chooses. I hate him.

Not really of course. But still...Alf and I were like inferior satellites in the company of a super-nova; the diamond chips next to the three-karat center stone. Everyone came up to him talking to him about how great he looked, asking about how he spent his summer. Nobody could take their eyes off of him, and it was like Alf and I weren't even there. It's funny, but it became clear: we're still boys; Teddy is now a man.

I think Alf may be a little ticked at him. Not because of anything he did to us, but he made Victoire cry. Alf found her later on in the picnic hiding in a little cove of trees, sniffling pretty hard. Turns out Teddy hadn't even said one word to her, not even "hi." Alright, I know it's just a crush on her part, and she is only eleven years old, but still not right of Teddy to dismiss her.

When Alf brought it up to Teddy, Teddy shrugged and told Alf that it made him uncomfortable how she made herself silly about him. And then he said, loud enough for her to hear, that she was just a little girl anyway. I think Alf nearly popped him one, but Alf is Ravenclaw enough to know that Teddy has him outmatched at this point.

Teddy also made a comment to Alf about Miss Shell being pregnant (she hadn't yet announced it to the family before he went away). And he asked Alf, out right and in front of everyone, if Alf was still freaking out about that. Alf turned a thousand shades of red, but merely turned away.

Not right. A few folks do know that Alf has always been worried about being replaced in George's life when George had, as one might say, kids of his own. Stupid, actually; I don't think it would be possible for George to love anybody more than he loves Alf. _As much as_, maybe; the man actually has got quite a lot of love to give. And on one level I think Alf knows that. But Alf is still a bit uneasy. I suppose I understand because of where I come from...as much and as often as Uncle George tells me that this is my home and I am a part of the family, I still feel a bit separate, and wonder if my old man showed up in the country again if the Weasleys would just let me go. Teddy's never had worries like that, despite him having some similar circumstances. He's lived with Harry and Andromeda his whole life, and he was raised with love from day one. Neither Alf or I really had that...Alf only half, and me not at all.

But Teddy has known pain; he has known prejudice. Alf never once, from what I understand, ever looked down on him for being the son of a werewolf. Alf always stuck up for him. Alf is nothing if not loyal in that regard. So it really is inexcusable for him to mock Alf. Just because Teddy seems to have suddenly turned in to some sort of movie star doesn't mean he should forget the people who didn't mind hanging out with him when he was just a silly bloke with turquoise hair. Namely, us.

Alf's still pretty smoldering about it. Looking over what I wrote, I guess I am too. Not exactly how we expected to head to our new year.

WWWWWWW

George knocked on Alf's door, entering once Alf called out for him to come in. The boy was sitting at his desk, working on a summer essay requested by Professor Flitwick. He had before him several fanged frisbees that he was using as reference material.

"You have an unfair advantage there, kiddo." George teased, sitting on the bed by the desk.

Alf managed to give him a smile. "And I'd be a fool not to use it. Although I don't suppose you'd care to explain to me the exact properties that ensure that the toy in question merely snarls without biting or causing serious injury?"

"And do your homework for you? I don't think so." George laughed, but reached over to give Alf's shoulder a squeeze. "But I would be happy to look the paper over for you once you're done, and give you any pointers I can."

"Thanks." Alf paused to sharpen his quill. In the ensuing silence, he gave George a curious look. "Did you need something else?"

"I thought _you_ might." George admitted, watching Alf carefully. "Teddy was a bit of an ass tonight." He started.

"Oh, so I wasn't the only one who noticed." Alf made a great show of shrugging theatrically. "I rather thought everyone else might have been blinded by his tan."

George gave a little snort, but forced himself to stay on point. "I thought he might have upset you."

"He did. How he treated Victoire was inexcusable." Alf said, very deliberately. "I know she's only eleven, and it's not like I'm saying he should be marrying her or anything, but he didn't have to hurt her feelings." Alf paused once, and then continued. "When I first came here she went out of her way to make me feel welcome, and I will not have her hurt. By _anybody_."

George narrowed his eyes just slightly. "So, you're upset about Victoire. And not about anything else Teddy might have said?"

Alf seemed to bristle. "I don't understand, Dad. _What_ else am I supposed to be upset about?" George was about to start, but Alf cut him off. "I know you don't think that I'm upset about his snarky comments about Miss Shell's having a baby, right? I mean, why would I be upset about that? I don't think I've been running around here acting all stupid, have I?"

"Alf..."

"...I haven't been moping or grumbling or anything like that. In fact, I think I've been pretty darned good about the whole thing. I am _happy_ about it. I think it will be great to have a little brother or sister. So why would you think I would be upset about Teddy's stupid, idiotic comments?" Alf snapped.

"I think that you are pretty worked up for somebody who's _not upset._" George finally got in, reaching over to rub Alf's shoulders. "And yes, you have been really wonderful all summer. But clearly you _are_ upset."

Alf closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands. "I'm not upset about what he said. I'm NOT." He insisted, and then looked over to George, more calmly. "I'm upset that HE said it. Does that make any sense?"

"It does, actually." George reached over to stroke Alf's head. "He's one of your best friends, and he kind of threw out one of your biggest fears for public consumption. Not cool. I just want to make sure that there isn't anything else behind that little comment."

Alf sighed, and sat back, huffing lightly. "There isn't, Dad. Really. Yeah, I know a couple of years ago I was all wound up about this possibility, but a lot has changed since then. _I've _changed. I know it's not all obvious like it is with Teddy, but I'm growing up too!"

George looked at his son, arms crossed defensively before him and lower lip trembling slightly, and determinedly did not give in to any sort of amusement at that statement. So he made a point of grasping Alf's hands tightly, and looking him in the eye without any sort of condescension. "You are, in many ways, more grown up than Teddy is. He's taller, and he looks older, but a mature person wouldn't have made that comment about Michelle. Nor would he have treated Victoire the way he did. Now, I believe Teddy will come to his senses...he is a good person. But he's found himself changing rapidly in body, and he's trying to force himself to keep up in mind. Only he can't, yet. You can't force your mind to mature. YOU, on the other hand, have had to grow up a lot more quickly than he ever did. So it doesn't matter if you're still shorter and skinnier than he is...you have a maturity that he hasn't reached." George bit back a smile. "And when he gets there you have my permission to take the low road and rub his stupidity in to him."

Alf huffed a little, and looked like he wanted to argue something, or fight something, but couldn't figure out what. Then, to George's surprise, Alf leaned in against him, and accepted George's hug, with a deep hitching breath. "I shouldn't let you do this. I'm too old."

"Ha." George managed, squeezing him as tight as he could. "You could be fifty, Alf, and if I feel like hugging you I will, and you just try to stop me."

"Yeah...if you can get out of the wheelchair." Alf joked. He gave a big sigh. "Thanks Dad. I know you and Miss Shell understand that I get muddled up about the baby, but there's a difference between you knowing and having it announced in front of a whole lot of people."

"And may I say, again, that you showed quite a lot of maturity in how you handled the situation." George took advantage of Alf's complacency to kiss him on the head. "At your age I would have hexed him silly."

"Not in front of witnesses." Alf pointed out, with a faintly sly look on his face.

George got up with a grin. "I don't want to know. Boy, do I not want to know!" He gave Alf quick head rub and turned around to go, confident that Alf was really going to be just fine.

WWWWWWW

Bill Weasley was sitting outside by himself, on a bench overlooking the ocean at Shell Cottage. He had spent the better part of the last half hour calming his very upset young daughter down. He knew, of course, that her infatuation with Teddy Lupin would come crashing up against reality someday, but he hadn't expected it to be quite so soon. And to be honest, he hadn't quite realized just how much of a crush little Victoire really had.

But tonight had been tough. It had been startling to see how grown up Teddy had looked, and a little surprising to see how good looking a young man he had become. He had all of the graceful features Remus Lupin had been gifted with, without the illness; Teddy also had the ability to subtly enhance his gifts and to make the little improvements that moved him from fairly good looking to future lady killer. The air of confidence that he suddenly exuded had taken them all by surprise.

However, Bill much preferred the old Teddy Lupin. The one who had always been patient with his daughter and kind. The one who thought being a metamorphagus was a kick and who thought purple hair was fun, or who allowed his moods to be displayed by the face he showed to the world. That Teddy Lupin had been a good kid without a cruel bone in his body.

This Teddy Lupin reminded Bill Weasley too much of...Bill Weasley.

He hadn't meant to be an arrogant snot when he was growing up. It had, Charlie had told him, just come naturally. And everyone knew it, except perhaps for Molly, who had one blind spot in her life, and he was it.

_Bill had been fifteen. And coming out of Madam Malkin's, he'd turned to find a group of girls a year ahead of him at school watching him with approval. With a studied air he let his robes swing slightly as he came forward, and pretended he didn't see them when he went to look in to the window of Eeylop's. He leaned in a studied pose, giving a little smile to himself. He observed the owl in the window, and made a show of talking to it, while all the while being acutely aware that HE was the one being watched._

"_Oy, Bill! Mabelle Woods has got a new broom...a nimbus stormcloud...you've got to come check this out!" Charlie had appeared out of nowhere._

"_Sod off, Charlie." Bill had given his younger brother a scathing glare._

"_But you said you wanted to see the new Nimbus...and Mabelle said she'd let you try it out..." Charlie came up short._

"_I have no interest in that stuff. You are a silly little child, Charlie." Bill drew himself up, trying to look important. "And besides, Mabelle is as ugly as an old dish rag. Why would I care about her?" He looked down his nose._

_Charlie had gotten very pale, his freckles standing out, and his eyes narrowing. Bill soon saw why...Mabelle had been right behind his little brother. _

Bill could still see the pain on her face at his words, as she ran off. And he remembered what Charlie had said back to him: _What's the point of being good looking if you're ugly inside?_

Bill had discounted Charlie, of course, and at the time he'd stuffed away the twinge of guilt he had about Mabelle. He had dated one of those older girls for a bit...he couldn't even remember her name now...but it hadn't lasted. Then another one...which also ended soon. And thus the pattern began. Until a year after graduation, when visiting in Hogsmeade, he'd overheard a rather attractive girl he didn't recognize, say disdainfully to her friends, "Oh, Bill Weasley's good looking enough...but he's as shallow as a puddle. That's why all none of those girls stay for long. Charlie's worth ten of him."

He'd realized with a shock that the girl who'd spoken was in fact Mabelle Wood.

Maybe it had been too easy for him, always, how girls just noticed him. It had taken him too long to realize the difference between being noticed and being able to keep one's interest. So when Fleur fell for him he was determined not to screw this one up. All the more important when he'd been mauled, and those good looks he might have counted on were now gone.

But it struck him as incredibly painful that his daughter should be suffering for the sins of her father, nevertheless.


	2. Ch 2 Another piece of the puzzle

Alf and CJ were spending Friday with George at the shop. CJ had glued himself to helping to sort and acclimate the newest batch of pygmy puffs; just to his other side, Alf was creating an arrangement of the newest invention. Following in the lines of the ever-popular Weasley "live" Hangman game, George had begun rolling out more classic games with a slightly bent twist. This newest one was based on the muggle Battleship, and featured tiny cannons that torpedoed ships that 'sank' magically into an illusion of water. After Alf and CJ had played a marathon war for about seven hours on a rainy Saturday, it had been determined that clearly the game was ready for public sale.

Alf took a step back from his display, arms folded, and looked it over with a critical eye. The backdrop appeared to be an undulating ocean; several different versions of the game (one with classic English tall ships was Alf's favorite) were unfolded and protected from prying hands by a shield; each of them had been spelled to play out in twenty minute intervals, complete with sound effects. After thinking for a moment, Alf nodded once and, with his father's permission, performed a quick charm that provided the occasional fin of a shark to be seen undulating on the background, giving it a proper sense of menace.

"Nice touch." CJ looked up from the bins where the puffs had just been sorted by color.

"I think so." Alf grinned in approval.

"Store opening!" Ron called out, the standard indication to Alf and CJ that all magic was now off limits.

"And back to boring we go." Alf sighed, dramatically, pulling on his robes.

He and CJ prepared for the bearing down crowds of students, for Diagon Alley was just getting in to the swing of its busiest season: Hogwarts shopping.

The morning seemed to pass quite quickly; Alf's section attracted a fair number of young people, and he delighted in showing off the product, helping youngsters (and a good number of adults) try out the game. By 11:30, the stock was nearly sold out, and Alf was ready to take a break. "Oi, Ceej...how are the puffs going?"

CJ was just handing a pale lavender ball of fur to a young witch no more than five, with a smile and a list of care suggestions. He looked over to Alf as she walked away. "Steady as always. Not quite the EXPLOSIVE sales you're doing." He looked at his watch. "Nearly time for lunch, eh?"

Alf turned towards the counter to look for his Dad, and felt a sudden horror fill him. He blinked once, and steadied himself on the display. CJ, catching his change in mood, came up to him. "Alf, you okay? You look sick, mate!"

Alf started shaking, and he brought it under control with a tremendous effort. "Why is he here?" He asked under his breath.

"Who?" CJ turned and followed his sight-line, to where George was by a register. George looked quite grave and serious, with his arms folded over, and was talking with a big shambling man CJ had never seen before. "Who is HE?"

"That..." Alf said, forcing himself to stay calm. "Is my step-father."

"Ah." Was all CJ said. Taking the last Battleship game from Alf's hands, he laid it aside gently. "Um, why don't you go on into the back rooms, eh?"

Alf didn't move at first; then, with a brief nod, he headed with brisk steps back in to the warehouse/lab, and through them to George's office, where he threw himself down on the sofa and curled up into a ball.

It wasn't that he thought this might be his worst dream come true. He knew George would never send him back there. _He wouldn't!_ Alf repeated to himself forcefully. But he hadn't seen Billy Woodruff since the day the man had stuck him off on a train for parts unknown. He'd seen his sister on several occasions; George always accompanied him, and Billy always sent Liv with somebody else. Always in a muggle environment, of course.

The last time he'd seen Billy, he'd been quite positive he was being abandoned...thrown away. And he hadn't realized that still bothered him until he'd just looked up and seen the man standing there, quite calmly talking to his father.

_Billy stood off to the side, waiting for the train to London with Alf, rather awkwardly._

"_Got yer sandwich, Alfred?" He asked, for about the third time._

"_Yes, Sir." Corned beef. Alf __**hated**__ corned beef, and here it was likely to be his last meal._

_Billy had given him a hundred pounds, which had just barely covered a one way ticket. He had about twelve pounds left for anything he might find once he got there, and no way home. Not that he apparently had a home. Alf shifted his backpack gingerly; Billy had slapped him around pretty good the night before, the first time he'd ever struck Alf, actually, but the one time was enough. He was in pain, his mother was dead, and his step-father was sending him off to an imaginary destination...a land of wizards and witches? Please. Clearly this indicated just how much Billy wanted to be done with him._

_Billy had just been going to drop him off, but Alf had remarked that there was a reasonable chance that the ticket seller would refuse to sell something to a ten year old boy off to London by himself. This had turned out to be correct...they weren't even real happy to find out he was traveling alone, but Billy had made up some story about relatives meeting him in the City. Then, ticket purchased, Billy had evidently felt just guilty enough to hang out with him until the train loaded._

_Alf felt unbelievably, almost inhumanly alone. He spotted the train pulling into the station, and with a wince he adjusted the pack once more, taking out his ticket. He turned to his step-father._

_The man shuffled back and forth. "Well, this'll be it then, I guess. You'll be going." _

"_Right. For good." Alf said, unable to keep some bitterness out of his voice, as Billy didn't even offer him so much as a hand shake._

_Billy flushed just a bit as Alf took up on to the train. "You know, this is what __**she**__ wanted!" He called out, for it was his Mum's letter that Alf carried with him to these mythical relatives._

_Alf turned on the step, and looked at Billy with clear, sad eyes. "Are you telling me that it isn't what you want too? Do you __**want **__me to stay?" _

_Billy had swallowed hard, and not spoken. The two of them just stared at each other, and Billy backed away a few steps._

_Alf gave a bitter smile. "Didn't THINK so." He said, and turned away towards the unknown._

Of course, it had all ended up for the best, but there was no good reason for Billy to have known that. Frustrated, Alf turned over on the sofa, so he was facing the back of it, his head buried into the soft fabric. Why in the hell would the man show up now? What did he _want_ with him?

And why on earth was he talking to his Dad?

WWWWWW

CJ approached George and this strange man quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but thinking that George needed to know that Alf had seen the meeting. As he came close, he overheard Billy's words.

"She's always been right fond of Alf." The man was saying.

"Of course I'll do it, Woodruff." George nodded quite seriously. "For her and for Alf...and for Katie, of course."

Woodruff looked George up and down, and a bitter anger seemed to come in to his face. "He looks like you."

"He looks even more like my twin brother, who was his biological father." George said, quite firmly. "And he's a good kid."

At that moment both adults spotted CJ; the muggle man backing away just a tad; George's face easing slightly at the sight of him. "Ready for lunch, Ceej?"

"Alf and I both were." CJ looked between the two men. "But he saw you two meeting, and I don't think he's feeling much hungry any more. He's gone to the back rooms."

George nearly groaned, rubbing his head vigorously. "Of course he saw, I am a bloody idiot." George gave Woodruff a scathing glance. "It took me two years to undo what you did to him. I don't appreciate your coming by unannounced and setting everything back!" He said, in an even, dangerously calm voice.

Billy looked flustered. "Look, what exactly did the little blighter tell you? I never hit him..." Seeing George's raised eyebrow, he corrected himself. "Alright, I walloped him pretty good that one time before I sent him to you, but that was it. You know, not every man would have welcomed in a bastard child and kept him clothed and fed." He stuttered out.

"Ironically," George drawled out. "The _little blighter_ actually never said very much bad about you. He made a point when I found out that you had 'walloped him pretty good' of defending you enough to keep me from hunting you down and showing you what exactly a wizard is capable of." He crossed his arms in front of himself as he leaned back against the counter. "And even a bastard child needs a good deal more than just being clothed and fed."

CJ nearly applauded.

Billy had deflated slightly. "Look, I did the best I could for him. Expect he doesn't quite see it that way, but there you go. Still, you'll help my Liv?"

George nodded once. "I will be happy to take her shopping with the boys tomorrow. Bring her by at 10am; at least this time Alf will be prepared for it."

Billy shrugged sheepishly and turned about, looking with concern at a pile of exploding snap cards, before heading out the door. CJ, meanwhile, was digesting what George had said. "Hey...is Alf's sister...?"

"A witch. Yes." George gave CJ a tight smile. "They had no idea...apparently with her fairly easy going temperament she never gave any major signs of accidental magic. She is thrilled, and her father, clueless."

"No surprise there." CJ snorted.

That got a chuckle from George, who simultaneously reached for his wallet. "Here, CJ...get us sandwiches from Fortescue's, will you? I am going to go talk Alf off a ledge." George paused, as CJ took the money. "Did he say anything?"

"Not really, he just got all pale and flustered...muttered something about not knowing why he was here." CJ shrugged. "I figured it was best if they not meet under the circumstances."

"Good thinking." George looked to the back offices. "Well, nothing's exploded, so that's a good sign." He turned to go after Alf, then looked back at CJ. "And whatever you do...no corned beef!"

WWWWWWW

George found Alf curled up on the sofa, not crying or fussing, but looking pale and drawn. "Hey, kiddo. Sorry that got kind of sprung on you."

"It's okay." Alf said in a quiet voice. George knew it really wasn't. He came over and sat down on the floor next to the sofa, and he rubbed Alf's back gently.

"Please tell me you're not thinking anything like I'm sending you to go stay with him." George asked, tentatively, wondering just how big of an emotional scene he was in for. "Because I'm not."

Alf turned to look at him, his blue eyes wide and troubled. "I know you're not. I know you wouldn't. I do." He insisted, making George wonder who, exactly, he was trying to convince. "I mean, I didn't blow anything up, did I?"

George stifled a chuckle at that. "Funny, I just said the same thing to CJ. So, why so glum looking?"

"I..." Alf paused, and George saw the boy's eyes grow moist, but his son took a deep breath and composed himself. "I dunno, Dad. When I saw him there suddenly it was just like I was back at the train station, and he was abandoning me. That whole conversation we had that day came back to me and it was like I was this scared little kid who didn't know what was going to happen next." Alf forced himself to sit up, and George got on the sofa next to him. "I just knew I had to leave the floor, because if I confronted him I don't know what I would have done."

"If it's anything like I wanted to do when he introduced himself to me, it could have gotten ugly." George gave Alf an understanding smile. "Because I nearly hexed him the second he told me who he was. I remember too, you know...remember the condition you were in when I got you back to the Burrow that night." George rested his chin on Alf's head. "I hate what he did to you, and I hate that he sent you away the way he did. But if he hadn't let you go, we wouldn't be here right now, would we?"

"I know." Alf took a deep breath. "But it didn't have to be the way it was, did it?"

"No. And it shouldn't have been. But we can't change that." George hesitated, and Alf turned to look up at him.

"So. Why was he here, then?"

George smiled in answer. "Actually, for a good reason. He seems to think that we would be in a better position to help Liv with her Hogwarts shopping."

Alf just blinked at first. "With her...Wha?" And then, seeing that George wasn't kidding, he sat back with wide eyes. "Oh, no way, Dad! Liv's a witch? That is _so_ cool! But she never even showed anything that I can remember...are we sure?"

"She got a letter from Hogwarts, that's a sure as sure gets!" George mussed Alf's hair. "So, just so you know, Billy will be bringing her by tomorrow morning. No more surprises then."

"Right." Alf looked at George curiously. "He doesn't seem upset about it, does he? That she has magic?"

George thought that over. "I think it makes him happy, actually; he seemed almost pleased she was taking after Katie. I asked if he thought your brother were magic too, but he didn't seem to think so."

"No way in heck." Alf said emphatically. "Trust me...he's as magic as a rock."

There was a knock on the door, and CJ stuck his head in carefully. "Anyone hungry? Besides me, I mean."

Alf smiled and got up to help, taking the bag from CJ. "What'd you get?" He asked.

"Three corned beef sandwiches, extra mustard." CJ deadpanned. He held the expression for a good three seconds, before his lips twitched on seeing George and Alf's horror. "Or possibly it's pastrami." He admitted.

Alf looked at George. "He's getting a sense of humor. We're in trouble."

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY:

Hogwarts shopping done...another school year on the horizon.

And yet another puzzling little piece of that dream of mine has fallen in to place. Today I finally met Alf's sister Liv.

I've seen photos of her before, of course, but they were muggle photos, and frankly a tad crappy. In person, what I saw was a lively, enthusiastic, sporty eleven year old with enough energy to create a lumos bright enough to light a Quidditch field. And after all, it would seem she is a witch,

I'm getting ahead of myself. Because to meet Liv was to meet Alf's step-father. I saw him briefly yesterday, when his appearance caused Alf to have a small melt down. (Quite small, on a scale of blowing up half a warehouse of fireworks). So when ten o'clock approached and we got ready at the store to meet our guests, I was really impressed with how Alf handled it. He was completely polite and a bit formal, which was remarkable when I'm fairly sure he wanted to do completely illegal things to the man, possibly without magic. It scared me a little.

I think it might have scared George a bit as well; I do believe I saw him looking around for Alf's wand, to ensure that no impossible to explain hexes would come out.

Billy seemed mostly at a loss for words. Liv was a few steps behind him; she had a wide smile for Alf and a shyer smile for me, and then she realized where she was standing, and she became mesmerized by the wonder that is the joke store. Billy, meanwhile, was looking Alf up and down rather sheepishly, finally making a comment about how much Alf had grown. And Alf calmly replied that he had...nearly six inches in the past three-plus years since they had last seen each other.

Then Billy hemmed and hawed, and handed George a lot of muggle money that George assured him he could get exchanged, and he made a quick exit after giving Liv a kiss on the head. George exhaled, and he squeezed Alf's shoulder in compliment. Alf had smiled up at him rather proudly, and then raised eyebrows at Liv, who squealed with delight, grabbed Alf by the hand, and asked him to show her _everything _in the store!

I was rooted to the spot, however. George gave Alf and Liv a little time to enjoy the moment, and patted my shoulder gently, asking if I was alright, as I looked a little shocked myself. And I was, though I could hardly admit why; I just said that Alf's sister wasn't much like I pictured her.

She is, however, exactly as I might picture the young woman from my dream, the one I believe I will end up marrying. Younger, of course; the woman in my dream is at least seventeen. But I can see Liv growing up into that woman; same hair, same eyes, same smile. I spent most of the day trailing behind them a bit, letting Alf revel in his sister's newly discovered talents, but mostly because this has opened up whole new worlds of thought to me.

There are now two indications that my dream might have prophetic qualities. And that...means hope. I know full well that though I might now be the world's foremost expert on the history of binding curses, vows, and the like, I still have no idea how to get out of one. And time is ticking away. But if that dream comes true, then the store-and me with it-not only survives, but thrives.

WWWWWWW

George was waiting in King's Cross station for Billy to arrive with Liv, ready to take the kids to the Hogwarts platform. He was trying to look inconspicuous in muggle London, which was not always easy. Alf and CJ were joking with each other to the side; Alf had a muggle newspaper and was quietly explaining the comics to CJ. Harry came up to him, and Teddy gave George a shrugging wave, and then went over towards CJ and Alf, who were regarding him warily. George was sad to almost feel the frost settling over the boys.

Harry gave a low sigh. "He's driving me crazy ever since he got back from that trip with Andromeda, George."

"So I see." George felt a little queasy. "I suppose this is what I have to look forward to?"

"I dunno…I don't remember you or Fred ever having that much of an attitude. I'd like to think I didn't either." Harry rubbed his forehead vigorously, giving George a glimpse of his scar.

"You had other issues." George pointed out. "And for me and Fred, we had Bill, who I distinctly remember going through a major arse-hole stage, as an example. Or, more pointedly, Charlie promised to thump us into the ground if we ever acted that stupid."

"Right." Harry nodded. "Of course, I was never as good looking as Teddy is growing up to be, either."

"Yeah, but Fred and I never let our model-quality looks go to our head." George deadpanned.

Harry gave half a chuckle, then sighed once more. Teddy was standing a little off to the side of the other boys, looking distinctly bored. "I've tried talking to him, you know…his behavior at Percy's was really inexcusable. He just seems clueless that this whole persona he's created is so off putting." He paused. "You know, most of his life people have run from him, knowing his bloodline. Then suddenly he attracts all this attention, and people want to know him; it must be a rush."

George could see Harry had a point. Still, the sort of friends you got just because you were good looking weren't the type to stay around. He hoped that Teddy came to his senses before then. With a start he looked at his watch; it was fifteen minutes to the train's departure time; he dearly hoped Billy and Liv weren't late.

Teddy came up to them suddenly. "Can't we go, Uncle Harry?" He implored. "I want to hunt out Geoff Rodgers…we met up over the summer. His dad's a curse breaker."

Harry hesitated, looking apologetically at George. George waved him on. "Go on, Harry. The boys and I will see you inside. I'm sure the Woodruffs will be here in a moment."

With no further encouragement needed, Teddy flashed a brilliant smile and charged for the division at a run. Harry shook his head, but followed.

Alf and CJ came up to him. "Geoff Rodgers is a _fifth year_." Alf's voice was pointed. "And until this summer Teddy thought he was a horse's arse."

"Language." George said mildly. "Look, give Teddy some space…I know he's being stupid, but he'll snap out of it."

"I hope so." Alf frowned. "Because until this summer people like Geoff Rodgers acted like Teddy had the plague."

At that moment there was a yelp of excitement; Liv came barreling around the corner with a packed cart that she could barely control. George jumped out of the way; Alf grabbed Liv's wrist, and the cage that rested on top of the pile of cases went flying, right into CJ's hands.

"Sorry!" Liv gasped out breathlessly. "Are we late?"

George laughed at her; her hair was wildly rumpled, her eyes were wide and her face flushed; possibly she was the most excited person to attend Hogwarts since his sister Ginny, who'd been begging to go to the school since the day she could talk. "No, you're not."

CJ came up to Liv with a little smile. "Nice owl." He said, handing the cage back to her. "Does it have a name?"

"Sebastian." She breathed out. "Oooh, he looks upset."

CJ leaned forward, and whispered a few words to the disgruntled owl, who flapped his wings and then settled down. "I think he's asking you to please not toss his cage about. Owls only like to fly of their own volition."

Billy had come up to them finally, mopping his brow. "Sorry…our train coming in was late…blimey, next year we'll come in a day early, I think." He looked over to George. "Can I leave her in your hands from here? My return is actually in twenty minutes itself."

George felt a little disgruntled; didn't this man want to see his daughter off personally? With a start he realized that Billy's dismissal of Alf might not have been because of who Alf was. The man was just clueless.

But Liv seemed to expect it. "Go on, Daddy. I'll be fine with Alf and his Dad." She sounded remarkably mature about it, and reached over and gave her father a big hug. "I'll write you soon and tell you all about it. You remember how to write back."

"Oi, Little lady…you left me five pages of detailed instructions." He laughed sheepishly, and hugged her tight. Then, with a strange look on his face, he backed away, with a look to Alf. "You'll look out for her there, Alf?" He said, sounding a little ashamed for having to ask.

"I always have." Alf jutted his chin out a bit.

"A'right then." And rubbing Liv's head, he quickly turned and disappeared into the crowds.

Liv looked up at George quite maturely. "He doesn't like scenes, my Dad doesn't. Spent most of last night blubbering like a baby because I was leaving him. Trust me, if he went to the other side it would be ugly."

"Mmm." Alf said, non-commitally. "We ought to get going…nervous, Liv?"

She shook her head, eyes wide with excitement. "I think I've been waiting for this my whole life, and I never new it. C'mon!" She raced forward towards the barrier; CJ rescued the owl from her cart, laughing as Alf followed her, nervously. "Alf's going to have gray hair by the end of the year." He pointed out, as he and George approached the barrier at a more leisurely pace.

"What, Alf worry about something? Not possible." George and CJ eased through the barrier, both shaking their heads.

WWWWWWW

Bill and Fleur were already on the other side. The platform was, as normal, teeming with young people, with owls and cats and carts and trunks, in short, teeming with magic as befitting platform 9 and 3/4. Their son, Ricky, still a year away from Hogwarts himself, was enthusiastically trying to get in to trouble; Fleur kept having to retrieve him from new scrapes.

Victoire hung close to her father. She looked, he thought, unspeakably beautiful, just like her mother. Her hair was a mix of Fleur's silvery-blond and his red that was uniquely hers; it hung in a French braid down her back that highlighted her high cheekbones and blue eyes. But she remained by Bill, seemingly unsure of herself, and looking over to where Teddy Lupin stood with very sad eyes.

Teddy had, just minutes previously, strode right past them without even noticing. Bill wanted to reach over and shake some sense into the boy, but he knew it wouldn't do any good; after all, he'd been there. But here he was, with his daughter who ought to be excited and thrilled to be starting her Hogwarts years, acting like she just wanted to fade away. He reached down and tugged playfully at her braid. "You have everything, Princess?"

"Yes, Papa." She smiled at him, but it wasn't a happy smile, and Bill felt a desperate need to do something, _anything_ to make her feel better. But what could he do?

Down at the other end of the platform, he spotted George's Alf, trotting after a young witch with a high piled cart. No sign yet of George or CJ, though.

Fleur suddenly darted away. "Ricky, no! You must not climb on those trunks like that!"

Bill wondered if he should perhaps go after his son instead, but as if knowing he was thinking of leaving, Victoire grasped his hand tightly. Right. He wasn't going anywhere.

Alf had spotted them, meanwhile; Bill saw him look at Victoire, and then look over at Teddy, and Bill knew that Alf had taken the measure of the situation at once. His nephew whispered something to the young witch beside him, who nodded at once. George and CJ had strolled up behind them, and Alf left his cart and came running forward towards Bill and Victoire.

"Hey!" Alf gave Victoire a warm smile, and then nodded up at Bill.

"Hey, Alf." Bill responded. "Good to see you."

"You too." Alf put his hand on Victoire's shoulder, and leaned down to her. "Victoire, I am _so_ happy you're starting Hogwarts this year." The boy looked back towards the cluster of people he'd come from. "You see that young witch over there? That's my sister Olivia. She's a lot like I was…didn't even know she was a witch till a few weeks ago. Anyway, she'll be in first year too. Will you look out for her for me? I'm sure she's going to be a little nervous, even if she isn't acting it."

Victoire showed the first sign of interest since they'd gotten here. She looked around Alf at the young girl in question. "She does not look much like you." Victorie noticed.

"Nah…looks like my step father mostly, with a little of my mum." Alf nudged her. "But she isn't going to know anybody here, 'cept for me and now CJ, but she isn't going to want to be hanging around a couple of guys. Can I introduce you?" Alf asked, then he added in. "It would mean a lot to me, Victoire. You really helped me when I first got here, you know."

Suddenly Victoire's smile dazzled, though Bill thought he might have seen a little wetness in her eyes. She gave her cousin a firm nod. "Of _course_ I will be her friend! It wouldn't be good to be all alone at Hogwarts!" And with sudden energy, Victorie dropped Bill's hand and walked proudly towards the other girl, who had been slowly making her way down the platform with George and CJ.

"You are Alf's sister!" Victoire beamed at Liv. "I am his cousin, Victoire. It is my first year too!"

Liv smiled brightly back at her. "My name's Olivia. Alf calls me Liv, but I like Olivia better." She confided.

Victoire nodded in understanding. "I know what you mean. Only certain people can call me Vicki. Ooh, what a pretty Owl!"

"If his name is Sebastian," CJ drawled. "Pretty might not be the right adjective."

Victoire and Liv shot him a look of death. "Boys can be pretty." Liv insisted.

At that moment Ricky fell over into a garbage can, which he had been trying to balance on. Victoire rolled her eyes. "Yes…pretty stupid!"

Liv sized up the situation quickly. "Younger brother, right? I have one of those too. Younger brothers are _terrible_."

"The worst." Victoire replied. They were now standing beside each other, forming a line of defense against the stupidity of younger brothers.

CJ turned to Alf with raised eyebrows. "You've created a monster."

Bill had fished his son out of the garbage, holding him up by the collar. "What I am going to do with you, Frederick, I have no idea!" He grumbled, then caught George laughing at him. "I don't suppose you'd care to help?"

"What, and ruin my reputation as a younger brother? I'd be kicked out of the union!" He said at once.

"We didn't mean _you!_" Liv said, followed by Victoire's protest. "But of course Uncle George was not like that at all, I am sure!"

George had a hard time keeping a straight face, while Bill cut off a coughing fit. Fleur, meanwhile, came up to them all aflutter. "We must get them on the _train_! It is to leave in just three minutes."

A last minute scramble ensued, with trunks, owls, and children, finally being stuffed on board the express. Alf was the last on, standing behind Liv making sure that she had everything. Bill reached over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hm?" Alf asked, turning to him, puzzled.

"Thank you, Alf." Bill said, meeting his eye very seriously.

Alf smiled in understanding. "I'll take care of her, Uncle Bill." He promised.

Then he disappeared into the car, just as there was a long whistle, and the Hogwarts express left the station for a new year of adventures.


	3. Ch 3 Secrets

"Shell?" George called out into the house, having just returned from watching the boys depart on the Hogwarts Express.

"Up here, George." She called out to him.

He followed her voice up towards the second floor, to the tiny room that they had set aside as a nursery. The door was half open, and he leaned against the frame, smiling in at her.

Michelle was in the middle of the room with her wand out. Apparently she'd settled on a project to keep her occupied during the next few months: she was in the midst of decorating the baby's room. One entire wall had begun to take on a background most reminiscent of a fanciful jungle scene, with drooping green trees and ferns abundant.. His wife stood before it, wand out, and deep in concentration. At the last swish of her wand, a huge flower blossomed out of a fan-shaped palm.

"Exotic." George said in approval. "Have you decided we're having a girl?"

She half laughed. "You make it sound like it's my choice, George. Actually, if I had to go off of my instinct, I would think we're having a boy. Why did you think I was leaning girl?" She asked, with a sly glance over at him."

"The flower." He pointed out. "Though it is red, so technically a neutral color."

"I'm nowhere near done yet, George; I plan on adding some monkeys and toucans and other appropriate animals; it will be quite appropriate for a boy or girl when I am done. And you can't have a jungle without flowers." She sighed, and sank into a rocking chair, the only piece of furniture in the room at the moment. "I wasn't aware that boys didn't like flowers."

"Oh, they like them fine." He came all the way into the room, and from behind his back presented her with a bunch of vibrant red roses. "They just like the effect they have on women better."

The effect immediately became noticeable; Michelle's face lit up beyond even the normal pregnancy glow, as George knelt before her. She took the bouquet, and raised it to her nose. "Mmmm…heavenly, George. But why?"

"Because I wanted to." He kissed her hand, then leaned in and pressed his cheek against her belly. "Because you're carrying my child." He grinned when said child kicked against her womb. He rose then, and putting his arms out lifted her up and hugged her close. "And because I know you were disappointed that you weren't able to go with me to take the boys to the train."

She sighed, and let him hold her. "I was disappointed, though I think I hid it well. I was afraid Alf would think I didn't want to go see him off."

"He knows that you weren't up for it today." Indeed, Michelle still had periodic nausea, especially when she traveled, though she had hoped the sickness would have passed by now. "Come, love, let me get you settled downstairs on the sofa, and I will make you anything in the world that your heart desires for dinner."

"Hm." She tilted her chin up so she could look him in the eye. "Rice pudding. With raisins."

"Done." He kissed the top of her head.

"You do realize that by the time you're finished I am liable to change my mind about what I want?" She warned.

"And yet I remain undaunted." He winked at her. "You can throw anything at me. As long as you're not throwing it up at me later!"

WWWWWWW

"Thank God, I was beginning to believe that I would never be able to find you two!" Eileen said.

Alf looked up, and felt a rush of relief that Eileen seemed so wonderfully unchanged. Well, she was wearing her hair down, instead of in braids, but otherwise she looked as sensible and calm as she ever was.

"Pull up a seat, Leenie. We got the last open compartment." CJ said, sliding over. "Alf had to make sure he settled his cousin and sister in first."

Eileen paused at CJ's words, then looked at Alf with a bright smile. "Your sister? Oh, that's lovely, Alf! When did you find out?"

"Just a few weeks ago. She had no clue." Alf passed Eileen a bag of home-made cookies that George had left him with, and she took one happily. "And it's great for Victoire, too…it's taken her mind off of…well, wait, you don't know about Teddy yet."

"Teddy? Don't you mean Adonis, God of Gryffindor tower?" She teased.

"Oh, so you've seen him!" CJ pulled out a pack of exploding snap cards and started to deal them.

"Hard not to. He's holding court at the front of the train, with every girl in Gryffindor and half of the ones in my own house hanging off of his every word." She snorted, then she gave a little frown. "Actually, I know he looks good, but isn't it kind of odd, him growing so much so quickly?"

Alf and CJ shrugged. "He started shooting up last year. He's just hitting his growth spurt earlier than the rest of us, I guess." Alf replied, taking the cards as CJ started dealing them.

"Yeah, but…" Eileen looked down at her own cards, even as she tried to get her thoughts out. "I mean, it's not natural. I've never seen anyone shoot up like that before."

"Please don't mention that to him, he already thinks he's one in a million." CJ said. "Alf's Dad thinks he'll come to his senses eventually. I just hope it doesn't take him forever. I don't want to break up the table."

Alf raised a level gaze at both of them. "If he keeps tormenting Victoire, I really don't care if he does come to his senses. I won't have it, and he'll have to do some major groveling to get me to excuse it. Unless it turns out he's cursed or something."

CJ gave Alf a sudden worried look, but Alf was focused on his cards. But the words Alf spoke roused something in Eileen. "Oh, before I forget." She dug in her backpack. "I found this for you in my Dad's library, CJ; he seemed more than happy to lend it to you."

She passed him a battered book: A HISTORY OF VOWS, UNBREAKABLE, BINDING, AND CONDITIONAL, THROUGH THE AGES. "This is the sort of thing you've been searching about for, right?"

CJ's face lit up. "You remembered! Teddy forgot totally!" He took the book with great reverence.

Alf looked at CJ in deep concern. "Ceej, is there anything you want to talk to us about? We're quite alone now. We'd do anything for you."

CJ looked at Alf and then to Eileen, with both great fondness and with resignation. "Please trust me when I say that I have told you everything that I can." He said, quietly.

Eileen nudged him. "Don't be an idiot. Whatever you can tell us, you can. Just remember we're here for you."

Alf nodded. "Unless you turn into Adonis II: the Sequel. Then you're on your own."

CJ snorted. "I don't think so!"

They returned to the game in a much better mood.

WWWWWWW

Two cars away, Liv and Victoire were in close conference with each other. Victoire had just finished explaining about Teddy and how he had suddenly changed. "He thinks now I am just a silly little girl." She said very sadly. "But he didn't used to!"

"Well, my brother doesn't think you're silly." Liv said, stoutly. "And he's in RAVENCLAW, so he must be smart, right?"

Victoire gave a little laugh. "Oh, Alf is wonderful. But the thing is, Teddy used to be too. What if Alf changes next?"

"He won't." Liv replied with certainty. "I know my brother."

Victoire sighed. "I cannot believe you are a witch and you had no idea. Alf was so excited. It is very rare, even for a muggle born, to not show some accidental magic when they are little."

Liv didn't speak for a second. She pursed her lips, and then played with a little locket she wore around her neck, one that used to be her mother's. "Can I share a secret with you, Victoire? Only you mustn't tell Alf, please?"

Victoire's pale eyes went wide. "But of course, Olivia. We are friends! Our secrets are sacred!"

Liv nodded once, and then leaned in close. "I did some things when I was real little. Once, I made a book that I wanted fly across the room in to my hand. Once, when my brother Len was being mean to Alf, I ripped Len's stuffed bear in half, without touching it."

Victoire nodded in understanding. "Yes, that is accidental magic alright. I did things just like that when I was little too. But why didn't Alf know?"

Liv sighed. "That's the secret. Mum saw me do those things, and she got kind of scared. She pulled me aside and said I must try hard never to do such things, and that above all else I must never, ever mention them to Alf."

Victoire looked puzzled. "I don't understand?"

"Neither did I at the time. I think I do now though." Liv looked out the window. "Mum thought Alf was a squib; you know that, right?"

"Yes. But it was a potion, not by birth." Victoire had very quietly pieced together all those dramatic events from three years previous.

Liv gave a sad smile. "But Mum didn't know that. And looking back, I bet she was thinking, here was her son, a pure blood, who couldn't do a lick of magic, and here was me, a half blood, who was a witch." She rubbed the locket between her thumb and forefinger again. "She was trying to protect Alf, I think. She knew I'd be okay in the muggle world."

Victoire nodded slowly. "Yes. I remember how upset Alf got when he realized what a squib was, and that he was one. It would have been very hard for him. But now, of course, he is so very happy you are magical too."

"Exactly." She nodded sagely. "And that is why Alf must never know. It would hurt his feelings to think that Mum tried to hide it from him."

Victoire extended her pinky; they wound them together, and nodded at each other. And with a little smile, they sealed their secret without words.

WWWWWWW

"RAVENCLAW." The hat called out clearly.

Teddy felt a sigh of relief. He saw Victoire, flush with surprise at the announcement, take the hat off and stand and walk with proud steps towards the Ravenclaw table where Alf was enthusiastically cheering her. He spotted the Headmistress shaking her head in disbelief; two Weasleys not sorted into Gryffindor in the past three years was beyond remarkable. Molly Weasley would be happy, he thought.

Truth was, so was he. He knew Victoire had a crush on him, and the thought of having to deal with that in the common room every night was exhausting. Besides, there were other issues that would have to be dealt with. He could hide things from his house-mates, who didn't know him that well, but that would not pass the scrutiny of others, of people like Alf and Eileen and CJ. And especially Victoire, who had been around him for longer than anybody else at Hogwarts.

Geoff Rodgers leaned over to him. "She'll be a looker one day, no doubt. Part Veela, I hear."

India Alexander, one of the girls in his year who had been determinedly trying to get Teddy's eye all night, gave a dismissive sniff. "I don't know if we should let people with mixed creature blood in here."

Teddy gave her an even, challenging stare, and she wilted, realizing her mistake. "Well, not Veela…others are okay."

_Right. Stupid hag._ Teddy turned away from her, wishing things were different then they were shaping up to be. Wishing he had answers.

He rubbed his aching knees below the table.

Another young lady was being sorted. Alf's sister, he knew. He remembered just a couple years ago when he was with CJ watching Alf try on his dress robes for the wedding. They had joked then about the possibility of Liv being a witch; Alf had dismissed it, but clearly had thought it would be wonderful if it could only be true. Well, somehow it was.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Figured. Siblings often, though not always, sorted into the same house. And since the magical half that Alf and Liv shared wasn't his Weasley half, even more likely that Liv not be Gryffindor. Teddy was glad about that too; her being around would lead to stories going back to Alf, and that wouldn't do at all.

As the gathering broke up for the night, Teddy followed, joking around with his new 'friends.' He felt the eyes of his old friends on his back, but he didn't turn around to look at them. He had to put all that behind, because there were things he just couldn't let them know.

His knees throbbed again, and he bit his lower lip. He had some salve that Andromeda had bought for him in Turkey that helped, a bit. He just needed to get to bed and hope that it wouldn't get worse.

Not like the last time. Please, not like the last time.

WWWWWWW

The sound of laughter attracted Minerva McGonagall. It was just two weeks into the school year, and so far all was going to plan. Well, there was the rather disturbing fall out with her special four, as she'd taken to calling Alf, Eileen, CJ and Teddy. Frustrating to her beyond belief was the fact that Teddy seemed to have totally pulled away from his old friends. She'd tried speaking with the boy, but he suddenly seemed to have become…she hated saying this…a superficial air head! Well, nothing she could do about it; he would either come to his senses or not.

"Reminds me of Sirius Black at his arrogant worst." She thought, with a sniff. Sirius had grown up to a fine young man, but he'd had a few years where he had been almost beyond tolerance. She'd always wondered if James and Lily might not have gotten together sooner if James hadn't been so much under Sirius' influence.

Fortunately Alf and CJ didn't seem to be quite so influenced. Eileen she had never worried about; that young lady had all of Severus Snape's intelligence with all the pragmatism and loyalty Hufflepuff house was known for.

But the laughter wasn't coming from students. Or it was, but not in an expected source. It was coming from a classroom. Muggle studies, to be exact. She came up to the doorway, and slyly transfigured into her cat state, so she could slink inside unnoticed.

Arthur Weasley was at the front of the room. The kids…a group of first years…were gathered around a lab table, and he commanded their attention raptly.

"Now, kids, with just a little e-LEC-tricity…" He spoke the word proudly; Alf had been quite insistent on getting him to say it right. "Watch what happens."

Arthur turned on the blender to its fullest speed. He had not placed a lid on the top, so that its contents, which seemed to be strawberry milkshake, sprayed all over the room, coating the laughing kids, the table, the cabinets, and the stray cat that nobody noticed had found her way into the room!

The magical tones sounded, and the kids gathered up their books, as Arthur graced them all with a cleansing spell. "Remember, kids, Chapters three and four of "Muggles and Me: A Wizard's Journey on the Other Side" should be read for next class. Off with you now…g'on with you."

Victoire gave Arthur a fond wink as she headed out, linked arm in arm with Liv. He beamed at her, and gave her the 'thumbs up' sign that Alf's sister had recently taught him.

Only when the last student left did Minerva un-transfigure herself, sending Arthur quite off his stool with shock. "Good heavens, Minerva…hadn't known you were here abouts!"

"Quite obviously!" She said, wiping strawberry out of her hair. "Really, Arthur, I suppose I should be grateful it wasn't chocolate; it's not at all on my diet as a feline!"

"Oh…oops!" He gave a wave of his wand to cleanse her as well. "But the kids are enjoying the lessons. I may say, I am having quite a lot of fun as well!" He leaned backwards, accidentally turning on the fan he was planning on showing the kids the next day. This fan had been one of his modified 'toys', unfortunately, and it came to life with the noise and wind of a jet engine.

"ARTHUR!" Minerva gasped, grabbing hold of the table to keep from being blown away. Papers shot about the room, and a map of Great Britain was torn from the wall, plastering Minerva in the face, before he got it turned off.

"My word…I must remember how sensitive these muggle tools are!"

Minerva peeled the map from herself, and tried to smooth her hair back. "I must say this has been an educational visit."

"How so?"

She stepped backwards towards the door, still feeling rather unsettled. "I now understand where Fred and George got their art for trouble from!"

WWWWWWW

"How are you holding up, dear? Going completely stir crazy yet?" Molly asked Michelle, pouring her a herbal tea concoction.

"Not too bad. Ginny's right next door with the kids, which usually kills a couple of hours before they tire me out. And I'm getting in to decorating the nursery. Those painting spells are exhausting, though."

"I am sensing an undercurrent of _tired_." Molly nodded sagely. "Well, you're at that point. That baby is growing by leaps and bounds right now, and it's going to be tapping in to your energy pretty strongly."

Michelle put her feet up on a little stool Molly had provided. "You might as well start calling the baby 'he', Molly. I am quite sure that it's a boy. Or are you like George, thinking that it's me projecting my hopes on to my hormones?"

"Dearest, you mustn't take what men say about such things by heart. It's pregnancy envy. Not that they'd ever admit it, but what we women are capable of with our bodies is creation beyond what even the mightiest hunter could perform. Therefore, they must take pains to mock our intuitiveness. It's their way of still convincing themselves they are superior. Now, have another piece of cake!"

Michelle was still laughing at Molly's description of impending fathers in general, though she still gladly took the slice of german chocolate. "So you don't think I'm barmy?"

"Michelle, let me tell you…for five straight pregnancies I felt testosterone oozing through my very pores. I knew they were all boy…in the case of Fred and George, boy times two, from almost three months along. Now, I'll admit, I tried to convince myself for a good four of those pregnancies that I was wrong; after all, I was hoping for a girl in there somewhere!"

"Naturally!" Michelle would herself hope that if she and George had more kids in the future that a daughter would be involved. "How was it different with Ginny?"

"I can't really explain, dear; just that everything about the baby seemed completely different. I won't say easier, or tamer; Ginny was never anything of the sort, before or after birth! Funny thing, though…I didn't trust myself. I was convinced that I was wrong, that I was getting my hopes up again, to the point where I honestly didn't have a name picked out when she finally arrived!" Molly smiled at her cup of tea, lost in the reflection of the past. "Ginevra was Muriel's next door neighbor's name; she used to have wild parties that ticked her off to no end!"

Michelle snorted a laugh, covering her mouth. "You…are…priceless!"

"I am glad you think so!" Molly twinkled up at her, and then reached below the table. "Well, since it seems you are certain it's a boy…you can open this up now."

"Molly!" Michelle took a rather large package with surprise. "You shouldn't have."

"Dear, this gift has been waiting for nearly two years." She replied.

Michelle undid the wrapping, and then gasped.

Below her fingers was an exquisitely knitted afghan, supremely soft, in a pale ice blue that was iridescent, the color of opals. There was additionally a receiving blanket, in a tighter knit, of the same color, as well as a jacket, cap, and booties. Each piece was quite nearly a work of art. "Oh, Molly…this isn't…"

"That yarn you gave me for Christmas when you and George got engaged. Yes, indeed; dwarf mammoth. It's got protective spells on it as well; of course I know what an infant is capable of!"

Michelle found herself weeping, though she was not quite sure why. She took up a napkin, and dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, I am being stupid!" She wailed in frustration.

"No, Michelle. You are being pregnant." Molly patted her hand in sage understanding.

WWWWWWW

Teddy laid quietly in his bed, the curtains tight around him, and a spell cast to contain any sounds or the sight of a lumos that might attract the attention of the boys who shared his dorm. Within those curtains, Teddy let down the metamorphagus defenses that he fought so hard to maintain by day, and he bit back a sob.

The change was startling. Teddy's magical gifts from his mother enabled him to change his appearance at will; and that had proved handy. Because it hid other things that were happening to him. Without the extraordinary effort he put in to his appearance, his looks changed drastically.

His face hollowed out. His tan faded into nothingness; indeed, it was replaced by a nearly gray pallor and dark circles under his eyes. His silky, fine, sun-kissed hair turned coarse and dull, more shaggy looking than anything else. This is what Teddy had come to over the past summer.

It had started last year, though not so he'd noticed it at first. As his growth had taken hold of him, as he felt himself rather clumsily shooting up, there had been aches and pains. Andromeda had taken him to a healer over Easter, and the healer had announced, with a bored air, that clearly Teddy was just going through puberty, though perhaps a bit earlier and more abruptly than most boys. The aches were nothing more than growing pains.

But summer had brought on some of those pains more frequently. He grew even more rapidly, though thankfully he seemed to have reached his limit. But Teddy was not stupid; he knew that though the aches were ongoing, it did not descend to true pain on a constant basis, but on a periodical one. Starting in May, before school was out, he decided to track when and how these attacks came upon him.

By the time August had come around, and he was getting ready to head to the Burrow, it was quite clear: his full blown attacks strangely seemed to coincide with a full moon.

It seemed that his mother was not the only parent to leave him a magical legacy.

He moaned in pain. How bad would this one be? It would last, he knew, three days at its worst; one day coming, one day of agony that he masked with the potions that his Gran had gotten him, and one day going.

His first clue had been over that Easter. When he described how he felt to Gran, she'd gone all pale. And he noticed when she filled out forms for the healer…not the one he usually went to, and though he'd thought that Alf's step-mom might be a good choice, not Miss Shell, either…she failed to mention his father's uniqueness on the paperwork. And she used an assumed name.

She had seemed relieved by the healer's announcement, but really, Teddy thought, why should the healer look for signs of lycanthropy if he wasn't aware that it was a possibility? And after all, boys went through puberty. A much easier answer.

Over the months in the Mediterranean, he rather thought that she suspected there was more going on than her wishful thinking. Hence the potions and the salves and the strict promises elicited to keep this secret. If people knew…!

Well, Teddy didn't need to hear her say anything else. It had been bad enough when people knew no more than that his father had been a werewolf. If it came out that he was suffering from symptoms…no, check that. He didn't have symptoms of full on Lycanthropy…not yet, anyway. No, he had symptoms of Lyanthropic Syndrome, what happened in the rare instance of incomplete transmission of the disease in an attack.

Still, it didn't mean that it might not get worse. He hoped, desperately, that it never would, because if it did? He wasn't sure what they would do to him, but he knew what his father went through with his condition. Destitution. Prejudice. Abandonment by his own family. Would Uncle Harry even allow him into his home any longer, if he might put his own children at risk? Should he?

Thus, he kept up his appearance with his mother's gifts, no matter the cost to his energy. And he avoided Alf, Eileen, and CJ as much as he possibly could; it would not do for them to get too close; they would not be long fooled. Though he doubted that the end result was any different. Right now, they despised him for his arrogance. If they knew, they would despise him for his illness.

But, oh, what was he to do?

"Aaaahhh." He moaned, in the protective silence of his spelled enclosure. Stupid moon, full and round, and tormenting him. Was this what his life was doomed to become?

He just didn't know what to do next.


	4. Ch 4 Ghosts of the Past

October 29, 2011

Eileen Prince wandered over the grounds in the early morning, just a few hours before parents were due to arrive for Hogwart's third annual family weekend. This year for the first time her parents would be able to be there, and she was thrilled; her father had met some of the other parents before, but not her Mom; indeed, Mom had never seen the Hogwarts grounds before, as she was American educated. In any event, Eileen had been rather stir-crazy this morning, and decided a walk was the best thing to work off her nervous excitement.

She was just coming up to the pat overlooking the lake when she spotted Teddy Lupin.

_Poor Teddy_.

Not that Teddy was garnering so very much sympathy from the rest of the group at the moment. When he wasn't outright ignoring her, CJ and Alf, he was actually antagonizing or pranking them; as if he wanted to see how far away he could push them. And he was often actually cruel to Victoire, who though she tried gamely to carry on was still very much hurt by the actions of a childhood friend. But that hadn't been the worst.

Just a few days previous, Teddy had been caught out wandering on the Hogwarts grounds at two in the morning. That was bad...very bad. There had been a big uproar; Filch had of course wanted the boy expelled. A very angry Harry Potter and Andromeda Tonks had come in, and it was decided that Teddy's Hogsmeade privileges for the year were to be revoked; he had Saturday detention for the next month, and that he would not be allowed visitors for this day. She had no idea why he'd done it; it seemed a foolish sort of thing, and Teddy, though occasionally daring, had never been a fool.

"Hey, there." She tried addressing him. Teddy didn't turn around; he was sitting at the base of a tree, one knee drawn up to his chest, and he was staring out over the water, not seeing anything.

She came up to him with determination, and sat down beside him. "You're up early."

"Sod off."

Eileen stared at him for a moment; Teddy's golden flecked eyes seemed guarded and sad to her. She decided to keep trying. "You can be as rude to me as you choose, Teddy Lupin. I'm not going to give up."

"Hufflepuff." He snarled.

"Maybe." She replied. "Maybe sometimes being loyal is as important as being smart or brave or cunning. In any event, you're still my friend. Even when you screw up, even when you try and push me away. _I am still your friend._"

They sat together without speaking for a good five minutes; a few times Eileen thought that Teddy might speak, but thought better of it. After a while, she tried herself. "Why'd you do it, Teddy? Why were you out there so late."

"I don't know." He said, sounding surprisingly bleak. "Eileen, I don't remember leaving my dorm room. But nobody would believe me."

"Oh." She thought that over. "Is it possible you've been imperioused?"

"No." He said, very morosely. "That's not it. I wish it were." He looked down at his watch. "I have detention...they gave me to Professor Morgainne. Scrubbing colanders. Hope you have fun with your family today." Again, Eileen sensed a level of sadness that just didn't quite fit in with the Teddy Lupin that had been parading around the school for the past couple of months. Still, as he got up, he gave himself a little shake, and it was as if he put that arrogant persona back on, with a flashing grin. "See you later...maybe...if I don't have anything better to do." And he strode off as if he had not a care in the world.

WWWWWWW

"Feel strange being back here, Bill?" George asked, as they walked towards the assembly of kids milling about.

"Not as strange as it's going to be sitting in the Ravenclaw stands watching the quidditch match." Bill laughed back.

"You get used to it. Personally, I'm just glad today's match isn't against Slytherin; with CJ on the team now that would have been a tough one." He admitted.

"DAD!" Alf yelled over to him from across the fields; at that moment Victoire flew past Alf and straight at Bill. "Papa!" She called, and flung herself into his arms; he grinned widely and swung her around to her delight.

"Hello Princess!" Bill's face, though marred, still showed his absolute delight.

Alf and CJ arrived then, and Alf gave a gasp. "Miss Shell! You came!" He went to hug her and then awkwardly backed away; she was significantly bigger now than she had been two months previously.

She ignored the awkwardness and pulled him, and then CJ, to her anyway. "I had to come make sure your grandfather hadn't blown up my classroom!" She rubbed both of their heads vigorously, and then Alf and CJ both made to half tackle George, who pulled them into bone-crushing hugs against their will.

"Professor McGonagall says that Grandfather has blown more things up in two months than Uncle George did in seven years!" Victoire said proudly.

"Oi! Uncle George never, in fact, blew ANYTHING up, contrary to rumor and innuendo!" George protested.

"Then where did you get that toilet seat that is in your office?" Victoire responded.

"ANYWAY!" Michelle said at once, catching Alf's faintly panicked face. "I am feeling much better, now, boys...no more sickness and I can apparate just fine. I do feel like a bit of a cow, though."

"You look wonderful." Alf said, stoutly.

Victoire was pulling Bill by the arm. "Come, Papa...you must meet my other friends. And you must see my dorm room. Oh, and you must meet Professor Longbottom, he is just the most brilliant at herbology...and..." Victoire's voice faded away as Bill was dragged forcefully and at a half trot back towards the castle.

Michelle looked down to both boys. "My progress will need to be rather slower, I am afraid." She admitted.

"I offered to carry her." George joked.

"I like you in one piece, thank you very much." She replied, draping one arm around Alf and looping one through George's elbow; George rested his other arm on CJ's shoulder, and the four of them moved slowly along the field.

"Liv never heard from Billy." Alf said, looking up at his Dad. "I don't think he's coming. I wish I could say I was surprised."

"Well, I am." Michelle snorted. "What could his excuse possibly be?"

George gave CJ's shoulder a little squeeze, and looked across to Alf. "I think your step-father will always look for the easiest way out of things, Alf. It was easiest for him to deal with you by sending you away, and it is perhaps easier for him to move on from Katie's death without Liv as a reminder of her. It isn't right. But even the day he dropped her off, I began to wonder if his issues with you weren't actually with you, but with conflict in general."

"Idiot." Michelle, in high hormonal dudgeon, wasn't giving him any excuses. "Well, she can just join us then!"

"Oh, she'll probably stay with Victoire and Uncle Bill, pretending it doesn't bother her. Victoire and Liv have become quite close." He looked a question at his dad. "You heard about Teddy?"

"Heard about it? Half of Godric's Hollow heard about it; Harry was angrier I've ever seen him, and this includes that manuscript business." George frowned hard, and then looked from Alf to CJ and back again. "I am exceptionally grateful that you two are not following his example."

CJ and Alf exchanged looks; it was CJ who spoke first. "Actually, Uncle George, Alf and I have started wondering if there isn't something more going on than Teddy being an idiot."

Alf took up the statement, this time appealing to his step-mother. "Miss Shell, if we were back in Salem, and you saw a teenager going through a complete and drastic personality change all of a sudden, what would you think?"

"Drugs." She said at once. George looked startled, and she explained. "It's a common problem with muggle teens...addictive drugs with mind and mood altering properties. But usually there's obvious physical side effects...acne, weight loss; Teddy looks fantastic."

"Yeah...but Teddy can control that. I mean, he can have blue hair if he wants...so wouldn't he be able to make himself look healthy even if he weren't?" Alf asked, sounding worried. "I mean, he just is so different, it's impossible."

"Totally." CJ agreed. "Alright, so if looked as good as he did, I might be a bit arrogant too...but I wouldn't walk away from my friends..."

"Who would, rightfully, smack you upside the head for being an arrogant git." Alf concluded. "That's our job."

Michelle was frowning now, deep in thought. "It's true...Teddy could use his special skills to hide a multitude of other problems. But not drugs, surely?"

"Would muggle drugs work on wizards?" George wondered. "I mean, I think about what Alf went through with Skele-Grow, and I think about how most muggles can't tolerate our cures, and then what happened to my dad when he experimented with muggle cures...do these things work both ways?"

"I don't think they do." Michelle shook her head slowly. "Muggle drugs might even be fatal to a wizard in some situations, not addictive. But it is worth thinking over."

The conversation might have continued in a similar vein, had not their small grouping been interrupted in the most unexpected of ways, as they turned a corner towards the Quidditch pitch.

"CJ, my boy!" Amos Diggory stood before them, beaming widely. "It is so wonderful to see you, son!"

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY:

I would like to say that today was quite possibly the worst day of my life. Sadly, thanks to my father's nearly fatal torture of me two years ago, I can't quite get away with that. But it was pretty bloody awful, no matter how you slice it.

My father showed up. Amos Diggory, back from Eastern Europe.

Thankfully, only back for one day...he had to go right back to his posting. But his being here for even so long as six hours was beyond awful.

He was just...there. No warning, no letter, no 'by the way guess what' notice from the Ministry. His other days back in Britain always coincided with when I was at school and inaccessible. Well, this time I was at school and it was bloody parent's weekend. One minute I'm having a fairly serious conversation with Alf, Uncle George, and Miss Shell about Teddy, and then bam, turn the corner and get hit in the face by a two-by-four.

Not literally. Even he's not that stupid. But it _felt_ like I'd been hit with something; all the air seemed to come out of me in a whoosh and it was like the earth tilted on its axis. The next thing I was aware of was Uncle George's hand on my shoulder; the way he reflexively dug his fingers in, pulling me back from my dad, pulling me closer to him. I sensed Alf reaching back for his wand, waiting; and Miss Shell doing the same.

And at the same moment, I was overwhelmed by this sense of guilt. Here these people were, protecting me, and here _I_ was, sworn to destroy their livelihood or die. And my sixteenth birthday just keeps looming larger and larger.

Uncle George made an off-hand comment that was really anything but, about how it was surprising to see him here at Hogwarts instead of working for the greater good of British causes in Croatia. My Dad replied that he couldn't believe his good fortune that for once his report to Shacklebolt managed to coincide with parents weekend. He continued by commenting that he hoped to be able to spend some quality time with me...alone.

George replied, quite civilly, that surely Amos could understand why he was reluctant to do that, given that I nearly died as a result of our quality time the last time Amos and I were together. And after all, it was Amos himself who had begged that I receive protection. (This of course, I don't remember, having been close to death after nearly eighteen hours of cruciatus).

All the while, the two of them were within seconds of cursing each other into the next world.

Minister Shaklebolt showed up then, and begged George's pardon, but surely he could spare me for a few hours? After all, since my Dad had so little time, it was the least he could do, to make me available.

I do wonder if Minister Shaklebolt realizes how close he was to being cursed himself. I think it would have taken George very little incentive to do so.

The minister then leaned in and whispered something to him; it made him look damned unhappy; his brows drew down low over his eyes and he frowned, but gave a curt, angry nod. And Kingsley then pulled me away from the group. Miss Shell turned violently; I heard Alf say 'Dad, NO!', but at that point I was being led away. To him.

The minister spoke next: "Amos, you know the stipulation. You must remain in public view at all times. You cannot even do so much as go into a classroom alone with CJ. In fact, I prefer you to stay outside on the grounds within eyeshot of myself or the Headmistress. I may remind you that if not for my intervention, you'd have ended up in Azkaban the last time you were along."

Well, that made me feel a little better, but not much.

The afternoon was torture. Not the physical/magical kind my father honed for years on me; no, this was emotional and mental, and far worse. He kept a jovial, kind smile on his face; I kept my face unreadable. Pure slytherin. And while he was smiling, he castigated me without mercy, reminding me of my duty, my name, my duty, my oath, my duty, my life, my bloody, fucking_ duty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Pardon me. I am still upset; I still get sweaty and clammy and sick thinking about it. He just, in his very charming way, wanted to make sure that I was on point. That I hadn't forgotten. Well, that I could be totally truthful about: not a day goes by that I don't think about the vow I made. What I didn't say was that all I could think about was getting out of it, somehow, some way. He asked me what progress I had made. I informed him that the Weasleys now treated me like a member of the family, and that I had free reign over the store.

Then he leaned in to me and while appearing to caress my face, glared daggers into my eyes as he growled, _Then what are you waiting for?_

I never met Eileen's cousin Severus Snape, but many have said that he was the consummate, pure Slytherin, and that was the only way he survived his life's trials...well, not that he did, but anyway. My point is I think he would have approved of how I responded:

_Now will not hurt them nearly so much as later, father. Now, I am still to be considered under your influence. Now, I am still your tool. Two and a half years from now, they will consider me theirs. They will think they have won. Two and a half years from now, it will be I who own them._

I said it all quite dispassionately, with a calm appearance and unblinking gaze. And he gave me what may be the truest smile he ever has, and he _kissed _me (ugh, get the disinfectant!) and told me how proud he was of what I'd become.

_I hate him!_

He left just a few minutes ago; the quidditch match is still on, and I managed to find a few minutes alone here before I go find the Weasleys. I know I can't take too long...they'll worry. Maybe they should worry, but not for the reasons that they are. I just felt I had to get this out of me, before I scream.

WWWWWWW

As the Ravenclaw seeker grabbed the snitch, ending the match, George took Michelle's hand tightly in his, and breathed a heavy sigh. Alf had been quite good, which was nothing short of remarkable, considering how distracted he'd been. That whole scene after Kingsley had led off CJ had been awful. Shacklebolt had told him it was necessary and reminded him that guardianship could be rescinded by the ministry at any time. He very nearly throttled him!

Michelle and Alf had been explosive when he repeated that to them, which upset him on two accounts: one, they were right to be angry, and two, Michelle had no need to be made that angry at this point in her pregnancy; it surely couldn't be good for the baby.

It was Arthur who had calmed them, as much as could be possible for them to be calm. Arthur had told George that several faculty members were on alert and one would have CJ within eyesight at all times. George suspected that if they hadn't gotten that little tidbit, Alf would have refused to play in the match at all. Because of that knowledge, they were able to get through the afternoon.

As the quidditch players shook hands on the field, Angelina Morgainne came up behind him, a completely different person than the one she'd been a few years ago, though still with a reputation as a tough professor. "He's okay, George." She said, quickly. "Neville just took over for me; Amos is putting on a good show of being a doting father. It is all show, though; I can tell from watching CJ."

George huffed, as Michelle grabbed his hand tightly. "I swear..." George glowered. "If even one eyebrow is missing from that boy when we get him back, I will run against Kingsley in the next election."

"I'd vote for you." Angelina gave him a flash of a smile. "You lot staying over tonight?" She asked.

"In my old quarters, which are unused at the moment." Michelle extended her hand to George, who helped her up quite gently. "How is Matthias?" She asked.

"Still the most beautiful sight I've ever seen." A glow came to Angelina's face then. "He is enjoying his new post, and I am enjoying having him here."

Matthias Morgainne had taken over for Madame Pomfrey on her retirement last year. "He doesn't find it a bit tame?" George wondered.

Angelina shook her head. "He is working on his research here, and has ample opportunity to do so. I think he rather lost his taste for adventure by being imprisoned."

"That, and you'd kill him if he wanted something more dangerous." Michelle said in complete understanding.

"Yes, that too." Angelina admitted.

Alf came running up to them, face filled with worry. "Where is he? Is he alright?" He hadn't even bothered to take off his Quidditch robes.

"He will be back with you at dinner...I suggest you go along." Angelina smiled, then winked at Alf. "And thank you for beating Hufflepuff."

"Huh, oh, yeah, the game..." Alf came out of his worry enough to realize what she was talking about. "Thanks."

George sighed, draped an arm around Alf, and helped Michelle out of the stands. "Let's go quickly then. Or as quickly as you can manage, love. I won't rest easy till I see him safe."

"You'd be surprised at how quickly I can move when I have to." And matching her movement to her words, she picked up the pace of what had become her standard amble.

CJ was just coming out of the castle when they got up to it. His face was pale, but composed, and he seemed alright...George held his breath for a second.

The boy caught his eye and gave a shrug. "He's gone...left bout half an hour ago." He said, forcing a smile.

George exhaled forcefully, and then not really giving a damn what anyone else thought, he wrapped an arm around CJ and pulled him close to him, squeezing hard. "You okay, Ceej?" He asked, in a shaking voice.

CJ nodded once, and leaned in to George for just a second before pulling back a bit. "Just wish that hadn't been sprung on me like that."

"It shouldn't have been." Michelle said, firmly, rubbing his head.

CJ turned to Alf. "Did you win?" He said easily, clearly intending to change the subject.

Alf picked up on it, and with a determinedly easy air, responded. "Of course. We quite flattened them, actually...300 to 60. We must console Eileen..."

CJ had given a little start at Alf's statement. "You gave up sixty points?" He stuttered out. Alf just glared at him hard, and CJ realized suddenly just how worried his friend must have been about him. But he switched back to the unspoken agreement to be blasé about the whole incident. "Yes, Eileen and her parents are inside, I think. And I just saw Liv and Victoire heading that way with your Uncle. Shall we join them?"

"We better...this baby needs to be fed right now!" Michelle gave a good natured grumble, rubbing herself just as the baby started kicking, causing her midsection to visibly flinch. Alf immediately took her arm, and addressed the unborn child. "Don't worry...we promise to steer her away from the corned beef!"

WWWWWWW

That night, the students were again gathered in the great hall, camping together. Alf and CJ watched as they were about half an hour from lights out, and Eileen went over to the girl's side with a group of friends. CJ got up suddenly. "Going to take a quick shower, actually...I feel kind of gross after this afternoon."

Alf nodded, understanding a bit. "Go on. I'll hang here." He watched CJ with concern; though they had tried to play everything as cool, it clearly wasn't; CJ had been disturbed by his father's sudden reappearance. Not unlike how Billy's arrival had unsettled Alf, only worse; Alf knew that Billy had no way to remove him from George, even if he'd wanted to; CJ could certainly have much more cause for feeling insecure.

A shadow fell over Alf, and he looked up: Teddy was standing above him. The taller boy shifted his weight from side to side looking sheepish. "Heard about CJ." He muttered finally. "He okay?"

"Not really." Alf studied Teddy carefully, remembering the conversation they'd been having before Amos Diggory showed his ugly face. "But he'll survive. Are you allowed to be down here, though?" He knew that Teddy had gotten himself banned from most of the festivities of the weekend.

"I have to camp with everyone else, since there's some adult sleeping in my bed." Worry filtered over Teddy's face for a second. "I thought maybe...I might...oh, never mind."

"Shut up and throw your bag down." Alf said at once, understanding what Teddy was trying and failing to ask. "You are always welcome here."

Teddy sighed deeply, and then arranged his stuff on the other side of Alf; Alf noticed that Teddy's knees seemed stiff, and that he rubbed at them fretfully as he sat down. "Did you hurt yourself?" Alf asked.

"No." Teddy stretched his legs into the bag and hugged himself tightly. "The doctor says they're growing pains."

_So he's been to a doctor. Interesting._ "Uncle Harry never mentioned that."

"He may not know. It was my Gran who took me. Anyway...there's nothing that can be done. Nothing." He let his voice trail off at the end, then glanced at Alf. "Thanks for letting me be here." He said, sheepishly.

"Idiot." Alf said, with a thin smile. "Where else do you belong?" Seeing some strange hooded emotion in Teddy's eyes, Alf continued with insistence. "You _do_ belong here, Teddy. No matter what. Even if one of us is acting stupid, we belong together."

"Don't say 'no matter what' Alf; one of us is likely to call you out on that someday." But Teddy managed a smile, and then sank into his bag gratefully.

WWWWWWW

CJ wandered until he found himself in that lonely, wrecked corridor-the one where Fred Weasley's life had ended. He wasn't so much in need of a shower as he was of a few minutes of solitude. His father's words, the harsh reminder of what remained before him, were pressing on his mind terribly. And the feel of George Weasley's concern...the grip on his shoulder when Amos appeared, the hug of relief when CJ found them at the end of the day...made it all worse somehow. He really wasn't just a friend of the family anymore. And yet look what he was bound to do!

But solitude would not find him; he heard a small sniffle, and with a wary hand on his wand, he turned around a corner to find a robed girl huddled in an alcove, crying quietly. It was Alf's sister Liv.

"Oi!" He said softly, not wanting to startle her. "Olivia, what's wrong."

She had jumped a little at his voice as he came up to her, and she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Oh, hi, CJ. I didn't know...is this you're place?"

He sat beside her and gave her a little nudge. "It's anyone's place who can find it, I guess. Not many people do."

"It's very peaceful here. And somehow I feel like I'm not alone, like someone is watching out for me." She scooted over to let him sit down, drawing her knees up to her chin.

"Somebody probably is." CJ said, looking about. "This is where Alf's dad...his birth father, Fred...died, you know."

Liv blinked up at him. "Why would he look out for me? I am nothing to him."

"You're Alf's sister. And if Fred was anything like George is--and everyone says they were like two peas in a pod--then that is enough." He tugged at her braid gently. "So why are you here, Olivia? Why so sad?"

"M-m-my Dad." She sniffed. "He didn't come, and he didn't even write or anything. He's abandoning me just like he did Alf...only I don't have anywhere to go." Her eyes filled again, and she burst into tears, burying her head on CJ's shoulder.

CJ hugged her awkwardly; Eileen wasn't a crier and his experience with girls beyond her was so limited as to be non-existant. And he wasn't anybody's big brother. But he tried, rubbing her back gently. "You would have somewhere to go, you know. George took _me_ in, after all; he'd never let you go homeless."

She pulled herself together with great determination. "Stop, CJ. The way you said that, it's like you don't know that George loves you too."

That brought CJ up short...he'd never thought of his place in the Weasley's lives as being anything near so concrete as that. The feeling was overwhelming...and a bit scary. But Liv was going on. "And I don't think my Dad really will abandon me...not totally. But it feels like it. Anyway, why are you here?"

"Same as you, only opposite." CJ gave a short laugh of irony. "My father DID show up, and in case Alf never mentioned it, he is a mean spirited, hate filled bastard who tried to kill me. Other than that, nice guy."

She blinked up at him, saw his attempt at humor, and managed if not a laugh, a smile. "I'm glad you found me, and not Alf. Alf would have gone mental thinking that my Dad had upset me, and then I'd have felt bad about that. But you don't get all crazy like that, do you?"

"I threw an ink pot at Professor Morgainne first year, so I don't know if that's entirely accurate. Now, hold still..." CJ incanted a quick spell, which cleared her puffy eyes, a trick he'd learned as a child from his brother's ghost. "Bettter. C'mon, we only have a few minutes to get back downstairs, or it's detention for us both." He held his hand out to her and she took it, setting her shoulders with determination, and together they headed back to their friends.

WWWWWWW

The next morning George spotted the Minister of Magic leaving the grounds; he jogged lightly ahead to catch up to him. "Kingsley! Can I talk to you?"

The man turned to face him, his face immobile. "Yes, George Weasley." He said very evenly. "How can I help you?"

George took a deep breath. "I am still not happy about what happened yesterday." He raised a hand to silence Kingley's protest. "I understand that given my legal situation with CJ that I had no choice but to give in. That's what I want to talk to you about. I want to adopt him formally. Because I don't want a repeat of what happened, not ever again."

"I cannot allow that, Mr. Weasley." Kingsley shook his head just slightly.

"I don't understand why not!" George felt his face grow hot. "I adopted Alfred without problem!"

"Alfred who is the son of your deceased brother, whose mother is also deceased. An entirely different case." Kingsley stood calmly before him. "Your goals are noble, I know. You are a good man. But it is imperative for me that I keep Amos Diggory functional and in his job. The man indicates he is happy with your care for him, but he still hopes to reconcile with CJ one day. Because he has that goal, he continues doing what we need from him."

"And you believe him? That a man who used hours worth of unforgivable curses on his own child would suddenly change?" George's lips twisted in derision.

"I do not believe it, nor do I have any thought of allowing Amos to regain custody. But I am happy to let him live with those illusions. Believe me, Mr. Weasley, this is necessary. There is more at stake than the life of a child."

George took a step backwards, and looked Kingsley up and down slowly before speaking. "When I was growing up, I watched how people used Harry Potter. I watched while people spoke of him either like a bloody warrior, or like a pawn in a game he had no desire to play. I hated it then; couldn't understand how anyone could allow such things to go on, couldn't understand why anyone would want to put a scared kid the same age as my brother Ron at risk of life and limb. I don't like it any better now."

Kingsley's voice was weary. "Did you think everything ended with Voldemort? That never again would we see a wizard with dark aims? I will do whatever necessary to make sure that never happens again."

"What I thought..." George said, as he began to walk away. "Is that you were a better man than Cornelius Fudge. I am sorry to be wrong."


	5. Ch 5 For Worse or for Better

Alf, CJ, and Eileen were huddled around cups of hot chocolate at Madame Rosmerta's. It was a snowy Saturday in late November, and the three friends had done a spot of Christmas shopping. But now, over refreshments, they looked from one to another, and knew that each of them had the same thing on their mind.

"We have to figure out what's going on with Teddy." Eileen said suddenly.

Teddy had, since parents weekend, become a complete enigma. He no longer pushed forward that obnoxious persona that he'd adopted for the past few months, but neither was he as open and warm they were used to him being. He smiled, but the smile never seemed to touch his eyes, and he was no longer rude or cruel towards his old friends, but neither was he open with them.

"Well, let's look at this logically." Alf said, sitting back with folded arms. "What do we know for sure? Facts, and opinion."

CJ rubbed at his chin. "Okay...fact...Teddy's grown over a foot in the past year. His body has gone through a complete change."

"Agreed, fact one. Now, do we believe that has something to do with personality change?" Alf asked, looking from Eileen to CJ.

It was Eileen who answered. "I think it does. For one, he seems to be in pain...almost like arthritis, it seems. That could certainly affect his mood."

"I think the pain actually is another fact." CJ countered. "We know he is in pain; some days it's worse than others. But that doesn't explain why he won't talk about it with us. We've always been there for each other."

Alf was thinking, and the fact that his thoughts were disturbing him became plain to read to the other two. "What is it, Alf?" Eileen asked.

"CJ...you remember that first Christmas, when your Dad roughed you up pretty good?" CJ paled but gave a short nod. "You didn't exactly want to be open with us about that."

CJ appeared to mull that over. "I understand what you're saying Alf...but...that was first year. I didn't know you so well then, which made it harder. It's a bit different with Teddy."

"It's funny, though." Eileen mused. "The people he avoids most are the ones he's known longest. If you think about it, Victoire has known him her whole life. Maybe it's not just because of the crush that he runs when he sees her."

CJ was watching Alf carefully. "Do you think somebody is hurting Teddy?"

"Maybe. Not Uncle Harry, clearly...and I have a hard time seeing his Gran harming him either. I dunno...do we think a professor?"

That sat out there for a few moments. Eileen spoke eventually. "He's gotten pretty close to Professor Grainsworth." Grainsworth was the head of Slytherin and taught Defense of Dark Arts. "But I've never thought of him as being someone like that."

CJ shook his head. "He isn't. I mean, he's all Slytherin...a little bit sly, you know; sometimes manipulative. But not necessarily in a bad way. And he looks out for the students in his house pretty fiercely. I cannot see him hurting Teddy."

"Well." Alf sighed. "I don't know who else. Professor Morgainne's tough, but she's been totally fair ever since her husband came back. No way Flitwick, McGonagall, or Hagrid would ever harm him."

"Professor Longbottom?" Eileen suggested. "We don't know him so well."

Alf shook his head vigorously. "We don't, but Uncle Harry was one of his best friends...he was a hero of Hogwarts...hell, he's the one who killed Voldemort's snake!"

"Yeah..." CJ drawled out. "And my Dad was once a prince of a guy, too. You never know, Alf...people can change."

"Anyway..." Alf took out a notebook. "Fact, Teddy's grown at an abnormal pace. Fact, Teddy seems to be in pain, and gets better and worse periodic basis. Fact, Teddy's behavior seems to be affected by these changes." He drew a line and started a second column. "Opinion: Somebody might be hurting him. Oppinion: The least unlikely person, it seems, is Professor Longbottom." Alf shook his head. "Nothing is making sense."

"How about Fact: Teddy stopped making funl changes to his appearance and instead stays with one orthodox one?" Eileen offered.

"Ha...orthodox...he looks like a ruddy movie star." CJ snorted. "Although I grant you, it's less abnormal than teal hair."

That got Alf thinking again. "How does Metamorphagy work?" He asked. "Does it take less energy to do what he's doing, or more? I would think that keeping his appearance up like that must be exhausting."

CJ's eyes lit up. "THAT is a good question. We really don't know what his gifts entail. And what's more, that's something we can answer...I bet Master Morgainne will know about it." He spoke with some reverence of the new resident healer at the school.

Eileen nodded. "We ask when we get back to school then. And I think we should maybe start tracking how this pain happens. We've all noticed that he has good days and bad days. Maybe if we can figure out when the bad days are happening, we can figure out who's hurting him."

With glowing eyes, Alf gave a little nod. "So we have a plan, then. Operation Teddy Lupin, stage one."

CJ smirked. "He'll never know what hit him!"

WWWWWWW

Michelle Fabry flopped on her bed, frowning slightly, and spoke towards the bathroom, where she could hear George getting ready for bed.

"I am a beached whale." She moaned.

"You're not. Unless we've moved sand into the bedroom."

"I am enormous and grotesque!"

"You are unfailingly beautiful, just on a larger scale."

"I am bloated and miserable!"

"You are emotionally challenging, in a good way."

"You are patronizing me!"

"You are...right!"

George finally came out of the bathroom, drying his hands and giving her his most engaging smile, and Michelle had to laugh. He got in to the bed next to her, and leaned in, rubbing his hand tenderly around her now very pregnant mid-section. She was about three weeks shy of her due date. He nuzzled her cheek gently. "We're almost there, love."

"Oh, I know!" She sighed dramatically. "I just feel so...oof! I can't get comfortable, can't lay on my side properly, don't get a full night's sleep, my bladder is the size of a pea...honestly, I used to think your mother should be canonized, but now I'm going for institutionalized!"

George gave a little chuckle, then leaned her against his body; he held her close and used his arms to position her so she wasn't resting awkwardly in any way. "Is this better?" He soothed, kissing her head gently.

"Mmm." She replied, seeming to stretch herself out. With a few little wiggles, she ultimately found herself positioned in a way that, while not comfortable, was at least tolerable. "Yes...but won't it be tough for you?"

"I think I can put up with one night of discomfort to enable you to get some sleep." He replied. "Just remember, by Christmas we'll have a beautiful new baby, and Alf and CJ will be home trying to wait on you hand and foot. Life will be perfect." The baby seemed to kick in agreement, and George reached down again to rub her, the thrill running through him knowing that there was a new life force just weeks away from being present.

"I wish I could have gone Christmas shopping for the boys with you." She sighed. "The crowds were just too much."

"I thought you said you liked what I picked out?" He mocked indignation.

"I do...I just wanted to be a part of it." She leaned back against him, and felt some of the tension easing out of her. "At least I got their rooms done."

George smiled in to the back of her head. Having finished the fantastical nursery, with its jungle design, Shell had turned her skills to the other two bedrooms, Alf's now having become a combination of Quidditch pitch and soccer field, and CJ's a menagerie of magical creatures, from Hippogriffs to Centaurs. He had been amazed and thankful; amazed that his wonderful wife had yet another skill to discover, and thankful that it had kept her from meddling in his kitchen.

"It will be good to have them home." She continued. "I miss them."

"Me, too." George admitted without shame. "But hush now, love; you must get some sleep while you can!" He murmured.

She got a wicked little smile on her face. "Sing to me, George." She said, in a pleading voice.

"What?" He half laughed, not quite believing her.

"You have a beautiful voice." She encouraged. "Sing to me." And then, more pointedly, "Please?"

George hesitated, and then thought over to their days in Salem, to spending time in Michelle's little house, and to her extensive collection of muggle music. Some of it had been quite good. A few pieces had stuck out clearly. One seemed entirely appropriate from the moment he'd first heard it, and he'd memorized it even back then, before he could ever have done more than hope that someday he'd find what they now had.

_...Close your eyes and try to sleep now  
Close your eyes and try to dream  
Clear your mind and do your best  
To try and wash the palette clean  
We can't begin to know it  
How much we really care  
I hear your voice inside me  
I see your face everywhere  
Still you say_

_We Belong to the light  
We Belong to the thunder  
We Belong to the sound of the words  
We've both fallen under  
Whatever we deny or embrace  
For worse or for better  
We Belong, We Belong  
We Belong together_

By the time he reached the last chorus his wife was soundly sleeping, a slight smile on her face and her hand grasping his tightly. He kissed her once more on the temple, and rested his own head, so incredibly grateful for the life that had found him.

WWWWWWW

Remus Lupin found Fred Weasley in the station they called King's Cross...for lack of a better name. Fred could usually be found there in what was the evening in the other world, keeping track of his loved ones who were still in life. Remus had rarely been present, but he knew now that there were things happening, things that required his attention.

Fred heard him approach, and turned. His smile was a bit wistful, and his eyes sad, something unusual for him when he was here. "Hey, Remus." He said quietly.

"Fred." Remus sat down beside him. "You look...unhappy." He observed.

"Just a tad envious, I guess." He turned back to watch his brother sleeping, his arms wrapped around his pregnant wife. "I'm a little sad that I never had that chance."

"Just remember, your sacrifice is part of what made it possible for George to have what he has." Remus soothed.

"Maybe."

They sat in silence for a few seconds, and then Fred changed the channel, finding himself watching Alf sleeping peacefully in his bed at Hogwarts. "You're here because of Teddy, aren't you?"

"Yes." Remus's voice was worried. "He's my son, Fred."

"No kidding."

"No, you don't understand...he's _my_ son. The son of a werewolf. I told Harry that my kind didn't generally have kids." Remus repeated, sounding strained.

"Ah." Fred got what Remus was driving at. "Problems there, eh?"

"Fred, he's scared. And he doesn't think he has anybody he can go to." Remus worried.

"Alf will help him. Alf's worried about him already...he's already trying to figure out what's going on." Fred tried to sooth the worried father as best as he could.

Something did ease in Remus' face then. "He isn't backing away? I know Teddy was acting badly for a while."

"He isn't. He's my son, Remus...stubborn as hell." Fred smiled. "Alf will help him. Just you wait and see."

Remus remembered the terror of the monthly change as it happened to him, and how once he'd considered doing away with himself instead of bearing it. "I just hope it's in time."

WWWWWWW

Alf was dreaming pleasantly of flying; he was the goalie on an international squad of mixed muggle/magical athletes playing a combination of Soccer/Quidditch. The rules were incredibly complicated and included something about every third touch having to be by a hippogriff while flying upside down.

A hand shook him. "Oi, Weasley...wake up!"

"No, Darius...around the goblin, not over him..." He muttered.

"Alf!" Darius said again, more insistently.

Alf blinked awake, finally grasping where he was...in his bed at Hogwarts...and who was there with him...Darius, the seventh year quidditch Captain. He rubbed at his eyes. "Wha's going on?" He yawned.

"Dunno...Professor McGonagall called Flitwick to get you to her office at once. You do something stupid there, Alf?"

Alf yawned, getting out of bed and began sliding his bathrobe on. "Don't think so." He said, feeling fairly confident he couldn't be in any trouble.

"Get dressed, Alf, not in your pajamas..." Darius said, handing Alf his Hogwarts robes. "I'll meet you down stairs."

"What time is it?" Alf asked, surprised.

"Two am."

WWWWWWW

The headmistress was pacing in her offices when Alf arrived, still somewhat bleary and now entirely confused. "You wanted to see me, Ma'am?"

"Mr. Weasley, thank heavens!" She exclaimed, turning to him at once. "We must get you to St. Mungo's at once!"

"Am I sick?" He asked, confused.

"It's Michellle!" Minverva gasped out, then, forcing herself to be calm. "Your dad just sent me an urgent owl, Alf. Michelle is in labor, and...there are complications." The headmistress' face suddenly fell into a very sorrowful look. "We need to get you there quickly." She said, coming up to stroke his shoulder.

Alf felt a strange stillness come over him, a sick feeling like he'd swallowed a stone. And then, even as things were still sinking in, "Where's CJ?"

"Mr. Diggory is not a relative, Mr. Weasley." Minerva pointed out, as she began to ready the floo.

"Like hell he isn't!" Alf said, hotly. Seeing the incredulous look on Professor McGonagall's face, he hurried on. "Sorry, ma'am...what I mean to say is that CJ is very much a part of our family, and he cares about Miss Shell too."

Anger was replaced by compassion then, but she still shook her head. "You misunderstand me, Mr. Weasley. St. Mungo's has extremely strict rules about who may visit a patient, particularly in the maternity ward. Mr. Diggory would not be able to get past the magical barriers, because he is not a relative." She stroked Alf's head gently. "Tomorrow is the last day of the term, as you know. We will get CJ out to the Burrow, should you and your Dad not be back at Godric's Hollow by then."

Alf's shoulders slumped slightly. He was about to ask how bad it was, but realized that if it weren't pretty damned bad, he wouldn't be here. "What do I need to do?" He asked.

"We'll floo you through. The medi-witch on reception will take care of the rest." Unexpectedly Minerva kissed Alf on the top of the head. "Be strong for your father, Alfred. He'll need that."

Alf nodded glumly and stepped into the floo, at the same time wondering who would be strong for him.

WWWWWWW

George Weasley paced back and forth in Michelle's room, feeling sick with worry and dread, and desperate for Alf, for CJ, and for his parents, all of whom he'd owled immediately as it became clear that things were not right.

So close. So close to perfect everything had been. Michelle going in to labor just one day before her due date. A midwife present, as had been the case for his mother with every pregnancy except the one that had brought her twins. And then the midwife noticing that something was wrong. A rash on Michelle. And they were in St. Mungo's before he could even blink, sending off urgent Owls just before getting here.

Three hours of labor. Not so long, really; pretty damned good. And a perfect, beautiful, chubby baby boy who was whisked away from him before he could protest, as he and his wife were sequestered away. He fought, he argued, he switched from trying to hold on to Michelle in her worsening state...the rash now all over her and her fever spiking, she was in and out of consciousness...to insisting loudly on holding his son. He just couldn't understand what was happening.

And then a healer came up to him, and explained. Michelle had a condition known as Nascita Febbaro... a feverish infection occasionally occurring during pregnancies. If she'd had it in her first or second trimester, it would have been easily treatable, but when it cropped up during labor (something that happened so rarely that St. Mungo's hadn't seen it for over 13 years) it was often fatal.

_But why..._ George had exclaimed, trying to stay calm as his world seemed to be crumbling around him. _Why have you taken our son away?_

Because, the healer informed him, the last five documented cases of this birth fever had so traumatized the fathers that they had killed (or tried to) the offending offspring.

_As if I would do that to my child, to our child, to the child Michelle and I have been waiting for, expecting joyously._ But no pleading or begging had gotten the healer to relent; he could see his son in seventy-two hours, not before. Possibly longer, if Michelle's illness lingered without her either getting better (long shot), or...

Dying.

_This isn't happening._ George's misery was total. Just this morning they had been laughing. Just this morning they had planned on what to do with the boys if Michelle didn't go into labor until they were home. Just this morning, he'd held mistletoe over her head and kissed her, an innocent kiss that didn't indicate it might be the last kiss.

He sat once more, despondent and frustrated. She was so flush, his beautiful wife. A sheen of sweat stood out on her forehead. Feeling sick fear he leaned in to her, taking her hand.

"Michelle...I love you so much. I need...need you to come back to me. Please, my love...the boys need you, our son needs you...I need you." He took a hitching breath. "But if you can't..." He felt sick, but knew he needed to say this. "If you can't, I won't go crazy. I won't hurt our child. I won't let that happen. He will be happy. He will be loved. And the healers can stick it up their arse if they think otherwise." Tears ran down his face. "But don't make me have to prove that. Please."

_Please._

WWWWWWW

Alfred Weasley was at that moment possibly the angriest thirteen year old in the history of wizardom. And only knowing that the last thing his Dad needed at the moment was an incident involving illegal magic with his son, was keeping him from showing the stupid medi-witch in front of him all those neat things he'd learned in dueling club.

"My father." He said, as if talking to a not-very-bright child. "Sent for me. Therefore, I need to be with him."

The medi-witch, tall, imposing, and as unmoving as stone, barely bothered to look at him. "Your father is not a patient here. You may see him when he comes out of the restricted area."

Alf fought down his anger. "He is with my step-mother, who is in labor and possibly dying. I strongly doubt that he's going to be strolling out here any time soon."

"Then you will just have to wait." She replied, turning back to her paperwork.

"This is my STEPMOTHER!" He nearly yelled.

The woman turned her eyes back to him. "And her name is?" She said.

He spoke as calmly as possible. "Michelle Fabry Weasley."

The woman waved her hand over what appeared similar to a crystal ball. "Ye...es. She is a patient here." She nodded. "She had a baby boy one hour ago. Frederick George Weasley."

Some relief flooded Alf. "Is the baby okay?"

"Seems to be." She said with great indifference. "The mother is critical."

That pit in his stomach came back. "Then I need to see her!"

The witch looked at him levelly. "Then walk through the portal!"

Alf rubbed at his head furiously. The strange archway which allowed access to the maternity ward required you to say the name of who you were visiting and then let you through. Or at least, it let other people through...before this bitch...witch...had been alerted that he was making a commotion, he'd gone berserk trying to follow the instructions and getting bounced back.

"It will not..." He seethed. "Allow me through. Because I am not a blood relative!" He spat each section out slowly.

Funny. Professor McGonagall had realized a potential problem with CJ, but had never considered that Alf wasn't any more related to Michelle than his best friend was!

"Then you must wait. Here. For your father." And the woman took out her wand and gave Alf a little zap of a shock that made him bounce about a foot back. "Now, sit down and wait!"

Alf rubbed at his stomach where the spell had hit him, and sat down with a huff. There was no way his Dad would leave Michelle...nor should he. And he assumed that George had also called out for his grand-parents at least, so eventually they would be there. How long that would take Alf couldn't guess. But some relatives would surely be along. Still, this was frustrating. His Dad _needed_ him. And he...he needed to see Miss Shell.

He felt a lump in his throat, and remembered his Mum, how frail and sick she'd been her last days in the muggle hospital. Did Miss Shell look like that? It wasn't fair, oh, it wasn't; not to his Dad, but not to him either. He shouldn't bury a step-mother too.

Time dragged on. Half an hour passed, and the fat witch waddled away, her coat on, her shift over. A new, younger, decidedly stupid looking witch wearing a name tag that said, _Lukya, Trainee_ assumed watch over the entryway.

Hm. Maybe she'd be easier.

Or not...the very next person through had issues getting through the portal as well, and although not as nasty about it as the last witch, Lukya in her lazy insolence was just as impossible.

Yet Alf's mind turned. As things settled down up front, as Lukya didn't move her nose out of her book for people being given legitimate passage, and idea came to him. Because he wasn't Michelle's blood relative. But not for nothing had that sorting hat put him in Ravenclaw.

In his most nonchalant manor, he got up, and walked confidently to that portal. As he stood before it, he said the name of the patient he _was_ blood related to with easy confidence.

"I am here to see Frederick George Weasley." He announced, stepping forward.

He went through the portal with no incident. Lukya didn't so much as blink; she just turned another page. And with a smug smile and a raised chin, Alf continued along the passageway.

WWWWWWW

Author's note: The song referenced is "We Belong" by Pat Benetar, circa 1985. Yes, I am dating myself…


	6. Ch 6 Ingenuity

Alf was surprised to find himself in an almost sterile, deadly quiet environment. Several bassinettes were there, but all seemed empty. There was a hush, a quiet to the room, that struck him as wrong. He remembered…just barely…when his sister Liv was born. Billy still pretended to like him back then, and the man had taken him to the muggle hospital where Katie had given birth. He remembered going to the nursery and having the wrinkled and pink bundle that was his little sister pointed out to him. But mostly what he remembered was that it was a happy place, a place of life, with bright colors and noise and laughter.

Here it was just…cold.

"Hello?" He called out tentatively, not sure where he would even begin to look for his Dad, or his step-mother.

Immediately a house elf passed before him.

"Is master here to see the baby?" The elf asked, rubbing his hands together joyfully.

"One of the babies…Frederick Weasley." Alf said cautiously.

"Oh, is only one baby here now. Most peoples have babies at home, only emergencies here. Come, come…" The tiny elf led Alf towards the last bassinette in the row. "My name is Bardolf, Sir…like the character in Shakespeare…does the master know it?"

"Er, no…haven't read much Shakespeare yet…" Alf said. He was very tentative as he neared the bassinette, looking down while holding his breath. Then he exhaled. A tiny bundle, pink and healthy, with a swath of bright red hair, was sleeping. "Is he okay?"

"Yes, the young one is fine…he was fussing before but now all is well." Bardolf rubbed his hands together. "Does the master want a cup of tea?"

"What the master wants is to see my father…the baby's father." Alf said at once. "Why isn't he here…or at least, why isn't the baby with him and my step-mom?"

The house elf shook his head so hard that Alf thought his ears would slap each other. "No, no, no! Baby's mom has birth fever, Sir…very bad."

"And the baby could catch it?" Alf guessed. That would make sense, then, why he was out here.

"No, fever not contagious Sir. But baby's father will blame the little one and try to hurt him, Sir."

"WHAT?" Alf snapped out, then immediately lowered his voice as he saw little Fred wrinkle and frown. He continued, "Are you saying my father tried to hurt him? That is _absurd!_" He hissed.

"Not yet, no…the father says he not hurt the child, but so all fathers do. Bardolf was here last time it happened. Mother die having baby boy, and at first father acts like he is fine, then he tries to strangle baby. Now no baby allowed near father in case like this for seventy-two hours."

"My father is different." Alf insisted.

"All fathers say they is different." Bardolf shook his head sadly.

There was a squeak, and a gurgling whimper. Alf's eyes went wide. "Hey, now…shhh, it's alright little guy. Don't you pay any attention…I know Dad loves you." The whimper became more pronounced, and instinctively Alf reached in to pick his little brother up.

"Master doesn't know how to pick up baby!" Bardolf exclaimed with worry.

"Of course I do!" Alf said hotly; after all he had many little nieces and nephews. Okay, so maybe Freddo was tinier than he'd ever held before, but still…it was better in Alf's mind for a baby to be held, even badly, than to be left alone to cry without comfort. Besides, the little guy fit quite nicely in the crook of his arm; Alf cradled him and rocked him side to side very gently. "Hey there, Freddo…it's okay. You're not alone anymore. I'm your big brother." Alf crooned. "And I'm going to take care of you until these stupid people realize what a mistake they're making."

Tiny eyes blinked open, and Alf smiled. "Hey, you have green eyes. Just like your mum!" Alf felt his own eyes water, but he swallowed hard and kept himself strong. "Your mum is sick right now, and that's why she's not the one holding you, but she'll be okay. I am sure she will be okay. Because she and Dad have waited a very long time for you, and she isn't going to let you go without a fight."

The baby calmed for a second, then gave what seemed to be a weak and sad cry. Alf felt completely helpless. "What's wrong with him?"

"The little one is hungry." Bardolf said sadly. "But the healers like to have first milk be mother's milk, not formula."

"But his mother isn't exactly up to it right now, is she? Wait, do you mean that he hasn't been fed? And you're going to let him go hungry?" Alf felt his pulse pounding against his skull.

Bardolf looked very guilty. "Only father can order baby to have bottle." He said.

"But my father isn't allowed near him!" Alf pointed out. Then he thought about it. "I am his brother. Is my word good instead of his father, Bardolf? Can I have a bottle to feed him, please?"

Bardolf looked overjoyed, and he disappeared with a pop. Within seconds, he returned, a warm bottle in his hand, and with a snap, he produced a rocking chair. "Master is happy now?"

"Happy isn't quite the word, but it's a start." Alf said down with a sigh, and eased the bottle to little Freddo, who eagerly took to it, his eyes opening for a moment as if to try to discover who his powerful benefactor was. Amazed eyes connected with Alf's, and Alf couldn't help but smile. "That's better. We Weasleys don't like to go without our meals, do we? Well, you are in luck, Freddo. Our Dad is a gourmet cook…wait until you get big enough to try one of his pies! And he's funny, too…he can make me laugh no matter how sad I am. And he's patient and kind, and smart and talented. He's the best Dad ever!" Alf shifted slightly and started to rock; Freddo didn't take his eyes off of him. "And your mum…she is amazing. She's my step-mum you know…married Dad just a few years ago. But she's a healer and a teacher, and she is so understanding and good. And you have so much family! I know you've been alone for a while here, but that's an aberration, I promise. Weasleys can never be really alone!"

The bottle was finished, and Alf raised the baby up; he gave a healthy burp with no prodding. "Yep, you're one of us!" Alf joked, before settling the little one down. As Alf rocked, those green eyes drifted shut, though it looked like he was fighting it. "S'okay, Freddo. Promise I'll be here when you wake up again. I won't leave you." Alf soothed, and at last Freddo fell asleep.

Alf sighed and looked around. He had to do something! His Dad must be going crazy, his step-mother might be dying, and he had no clue where the rest of the family was. Perhaps they had not yet figured out how to bypass the silly rules downstairs? But it didn't matter; clearly Alf had to take the next step.

There was a doorway at the end of the ward, opposite from where he came in, and it was protected by the same sort of portal from downstairs. "Does that lead to where my Dad and step-mom are, Bardolf?" Alf asked, trying to sound blasé.

"Yes, but master cannot go there if she is your step-mother." Bardolf said.

"I see." Alf was thinking furiously. "That portal system is very clever. Say, for example, that if I was here with my step mother's sister, and we were to walk through together, would it kick me out?"

"Not if you were close next to each other, Sir. That is how non-relatives are allowed to visit; they can come in if brought by a relative." Bardolf clearly had no clue how Alf's brain was working.

"Hm." Alf continued rocking. "So, Bardolf…you house elves, you have ways of going places that wizard's can't, don't you?"

"Sometimes. But that area is restricted." Bardolf almost paled.

"Oh, I would never, never ask you to go in there!" Alf sounded shocked. "It would break the rules, and that would be wrong!" Alf paused until he was sure the elf was buying it. "But I just wondered; I could use some help with the baby, and we have some house elves back at Godric's Hollow. Is there any way you could bring one to me?"

"Oh, yes…when there are babies here Wizards is often wanting their own elves to take care of them." Bardolf nodded deeply. "Who is your elves names?"

"Dixie, Dexter, and Delwyn. They are free elves." Alf stressed. "They choose to live in the Weasley household because we care for their charge, CJ Diggory. They had been bonded to CJ's mother, Caroline Featherwood Diggory." Alf understood how important heritage and ownership were to house elves.

It had been the right tack. Bardolf was fiercely impressed. "Bardolf will go to them. Does Master want all three?"

"One will do." Alf just hoped that one of the elves, who had loyalty to CJ and not him after all, would agree to come.

Bardolf was gone with a pop, and Alf sighed deeply. He hoped that his grandparents were on their way, and that they'd be able to talk sense into the security freaks downstairs. But if they didn't, well, he had a plan B.

He spoke to the sleeping child. "Freddo, I will tell you the wondrous tale about this day when you are old enough to understand. We are crafty, we Weasleys are. And it takes more than a wide-bodied medi-witch to hold us back when we know we're right!" Alf sat back and looked longingly towards the door that would take him to his father, and silently vowed to get the both of them through there.

WWWWWWW

George was desperate. He wanted his son…both of them, actually…hell, he wanted CJ too. He wanted his parents, he wanted Mum to tell him it was alright, and his Dad to just be there for him, the strong presence that Arthur had always been. He had no idea whose form of torture it was that he should be alone at the moment.

_You're never alone, George. You know that._

Fred's voice calmed him, a little.

_I can't bear this, Fred._

_I know, Georgie. Your girl is a fighter, though. She's trying hard to get back to you. I can feel it._

George felt a tear run down his face as he squeezed Michelle's hand. _Promise me, Fred, that if she can't get back, that you'll take care of her?_

A soothing peace seemed to fill him. _You know I will. Same as you take care of Alf. But it may not come to that. I hope it doesn't._

_Me, too._ George wiped at his face, and sat back, weary. _Don't leave me, Fred!  
_

_I never do._

WWWWWWW

Delwyn appeared before Alf with the abruptness common to house elves. "Master Alfred needs help, Sir?" Delwyn asked.

Relief flooded Alf as he saw that the elf had agreed to show up. "Master Alfred needs help for Master George and Miss Shell." He said, quickly. "Miss Shell is sick and she needs to see her baby." Alf leaned forward, speaking low. "Where is Bardolf, Delwyn?"

"Bardolf was requested to help a healer for a moment. Bardolf did not volunteer that there was a visitor in the maternity ward." Delwyn looked slick. "I convinced Bardolf that Master George will do no harm. I saw what he did for my CJ." Delwyn raised eyebrows. "But there are eyes on the room, Sir. If Master Alfred goes near the door, the young witch with the crystal ball will see him!"

"I was afraid of that. That's why I need help." Alf looked about. "I am going to put the baby down…can you find me some paper and a quill?"

By the time Alf had succeeded in easing Freddo back down in to the bassinette, Delwyn had managed to do was she was bid. "Thanks…this won't take but a second."

He hastily scribbled a note down, then handed it to the house elf. "You must bring this to Harry Potter…or to Ginny Potter, his wife. You know our neighbors, yes?"

"Of course, Master! And even if they is not neighbors, I know the great Harry Potter." Delwyn's eyes went wide.

"Good. Bring this to one of them. They will give you a package in return that you must bring to me at once. Can you do that?"

Before Alf even got the last sentence out, Delwyn was gone.

Here goes nothing, he thought.

WWWWWWW

Harry was certain that the world must be ending. For what other reason would one of George's house elves be bouncing up and down on his bed at…Good Lord! Five in the morning? "Glasses, Gin." He muttered.

His half sleeping wife handed them over to him, then rolled over and buried her head under the pillow.

"Harry Potter must read letter from Alfred Weasley!" The elf insisted. He wished he could tell them apart. "Alfred Weasley says urgent!"

"Why not George?" Harry grumbled.

"George is at St. Mungo's with his wife and new baby!" The elf explained. "And Master Alfred there too, but they need help!"

THAT got Ginny awake; she sat upright. "Michelle had the baby? Is everything okay?" She asked, stuttering out the words.

Harry was reading the note anxiously.

_Uncle Harry…_

_There isn't much time and not a lot I can explain. Miss Shell is sick and they won't let me in to see her or Dad because I'm not related. I need your invisibility cloak._

_I know you will want to come to the hospital and help, and I hope you do, but I am afraid there might not be time. And they won't let you in either, Miss Shell doesn't have any blood relatives alive. Well, except for one, and he's with me. _

_By all means, get to St. Mungo's. Help Gran and Gramps to get in if you can…and I guess if anybody could get around those idiots, it's you. But I cannot wait. If Miss Shell doesn't make it, I want to have a chance to see her first._

_Please…Delwyn can get me the cloak easy enough. And I promise I will return it. But Uncle Harry, I need your help."_

Harry didn't say a word. He handed the letter to Ginny and leapt out of bed, grabbing the cloak from the top shelf of his wardrobe. "Here, Delwyn, this is the package Master Alfred is expecting." He said quickly. "You must go. Tell him I said I will do everything I can."

A beatific smile graced Delwyn's face, and then the elf was gone.

Ginny's face had gone pale and drawn; her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Harry!"

"I have to go, Gin. I don't know what's up at St. Mungo's, but I have to see if I can knock some sense into them." He looked at his wife, and kissed her. "Call Percy and Hermione, Ginny, and have them meet me there. They are high enough in the ministry that they may have some insight into the situation."

Ginny pulled herself together bravely, and nodded. "Get me word as soon as we know what's happening, Harry." She got up and let Harry hug her close, holding her for a second. "It isn't right, Harry. He shouldn't have to go through this."

_No, _Harry thought. _He shouldn't._

WWWWWWW

Alf nearly jumped up for joy when he saw Delwyn return, the shimmering fabric folded neatly in her hands. He looked around and was glad to see that Bardolf had not returned. "I am exceedingly grateful to you, Delwyn." He said, relieved. He walked back over to the bassinette. "Is it only the portal that is being watched?"

"That is as Bardolf says." Delwyn said as Alf picked up the baby. "But Master Alfred, will you be able to go through the passage? Bardolf said you are not a relative to Miss Shell?"

"I'm not…but he is!" He said with a gentle smile as he picked Freddo up; the baby didn't stir beyond nuzzling in closer to him, as if he already recognized the safety of his big brother. "If I understood Bardolf right then if I go through the portal carrying him, his blood will carry me through." _If not, this is going to be a pretty short experiment!_

"Ah." Delwyn's eyes narrowed in thought. "Then Delwyn will pull the rocker over to the bassinette, and if Bardolf returns will say that Master Alfred had to leave to go with grandparents, and that Delwyn was assigned to watch baby. Bardolf will not interfere in duty of another elf, so he will not notice at once that baby is gone."

"You are a gem, Delwyn." Alf gave the elf a sincere smile. "Master CJ was lucky to have you helping him all those years."

Delwyn bowed low. "And we are lucky that Master CJ has found good wizards to help him, Sir. Please be careful."

With one hand, Alf arranged the cloak over him and the baby. It was longer than he'd expected; he'd have to tread carefully. "Does it work, Delwyn?"

"You is beautifully gone, Master Alfred." Delwyn whispered, clasping her hands.

_Here goes nothing._

As he approached the portal, he waited for the sound of thundering footsteps or the rage of a medi-witch. Nothing. A good sign. He stood before the entryway, little Freddo soundly sleeping in his arms, and raised his head, chin jutting out.

"We are here to see Michelle Fabry Weasley." He announced, in a quiet but clear voice.

He took a step forward.

WWWWWWW

George thought that perhaps the rash was fading. Was that wishful thinking? Was it even a sign she was getting better, if it was true? Or did the rash go away regardless? He decided he'd go with the hopeful angle. He pushed the hair off of her forehead gently. Was she less feverish? Where was that healer?

"The sensors will let me know when she gets worse." The healer had said.

But what if she got better? Why did everyone regard that as such an impossibility?

_They're all idiots, that's why._ Fred said to him. _They don't know how stubborn she is. She fought like hell for you, didn't she, your holiness?_

_I never thought you liked that joke._ George gave a wan smile.

_I'm humoring you. _Fred's presence was clearly felt, and then it issued a low chuckle.

_What is so funny, brother mine? _George wondered.

_Ravenclaw._ Fred said, cryptically. _I would say that was Katie's doing, but I'm going to take credit for my progeny anyway. The little bugger clearly loves you._

_Of course he does._ George's brown furled in a frown. _But where is he? Wouldn't Hogwarts let him leave?_

Again that quiet chuckle from Fred. _Try not to freak out too badly, bro._

What was Fred talking abou…

"Dad…I found you! There are about a thousand doors between the nursery and here!"

George slid off of the chair, in shock, as Alfred's voice bounced off of the walls from thin air. "What the?"

"Oooh, sorry!" Alf said. And suddenly his head and body was revealed as an invisibility cloak slid to the floor. "Freddo and I had to sneak in here…these idiots are bloody death eaters in disguise."

George gaped for about three seconds, a thousand thoughts assaulting his brain at once. _Alf is here. He has the baby. He has Harry's cloak. He has the baby. Alf is here._

Leaping up, George embraced Alf tightly, choking back a sob of relief at not being alone any longer. The baby protested with a gurgle, and George looked down, starting to shake. "Is he okay?" He asked, not realizing how much he'd been worried about the child until this second.

"He is wonderful." Alf said, with a smile. "We've had a grand time together, haven't we, Freddo? Even if some idiots seemed to think he wasn't allowed in here. Clearly they have underestimated us Weasleys!"

His legs weak, George guided Alf and Freddo towards the chair, and pulled them down in to his lap, wrapping his arms around his oldest son. George leaned forward; the baby was beautiful; perfect in fact. _How on earth could these morons think I would hurt him?_ Tears ran down George's face, this time of relief, as he pulled Alf as close as he could. "But why wouldn't they let you up? And where is CJ, and your grandparents?" He mused.

Alf explained quietly how St. Mungo's worked in terms of security. George's blood boiled, to think that somehow the possibility of step-children, or adopted children, had been so completely overlooked. But Alf had bested them, he had. And it was all going to be alright now. "There are no words in the English language for how much I love you." George whispered.

Alf smirked at him. "So what language is that you're speaking now?" He teased. Then his eyes grew serious. "How is Miss Shell?"

George shifted the chair closer to the bed, and took the baby from Alf so Alf could lean forward, and take her hand. Taking a look at his son's face, George saw how much Alf loved Michelle; she might be his step-mother, and not his mother, but at this moment blood did not matter. Alf looked at him, his eyes wide and wet. "Is there nothing we can do?"

"Time. Only time will help." George said sadly. The baby cooed gently, and George looked down; Freddo's eyes were open, and watching him; George beamed "Hey, he has Shell's eyes!" He exclaimed.

"Bright green." Alf forced a smile. "I am afraid he might end up being more handsome than both of us!"

George chuckled. "Then heaven help the women of Hogwarts in eleven years!" With inspiration, George came forward, leaning against the bed, and laid Freddo down in the crook of Michelle's arm. "Shell…" George said quietly. "Alf is here. He smuggled the baby in. That's him, in your arms. Don't you want to wake up and hold him?" He coaxed. "I know he wants to be held. He wants his mum." George wiped at his face. "Just like Alf wants you. Just like I want you. Come back to us, love."

Alf choked down a sniffle that betrayed just how worried he was; George pulled him tight to him, and the two of them leaned together over the baby, over Michelle, and they waited.

As they did so, George pulled out his wand. Alf looked a question at him.

"Nobody…" George said firmly. "Is removing you or Freddo from here!"

WWWWWWW

CJ got up at seven in the morning, with a distinct feeling that something was wrong. He had one last mid-term this morning, Defense Against Dark Arts, and he and Alf were going to pop by to visit Alf's grandfather for the afternoon, until an afternoon party and then being picked up by George, should Miss Shell's health be permitting.

Yet Alf wasn't at breakfast.

He asked around, but nobody seemed to have seen him. Thinking he might have just overslept, CJ headed to Care of Magical Creatures, but Alf wasn't there. He asked Professor Grainsworth as the man began handing out parchment.

"Mr. Weasley has been excused from the exam." Was the only reply he got.

Strange. Very strange.

Immediately after the test was complete, CJ went in search of Arthur Weasley. But the Muggle Studies classroom was dark; he asked some first years, who would have had their exam that morning, if their professor had mentioned anything, only to be told that their exam had been administered by Master Morgainne.

Now CJ was worried. Alf was gone. Alf's grandfather was gone. Something surely was wrong here.

He alerted Eileen and Teddy, and the three of them split up to search the school, meeting by the old tree that the four of them so loved half an hour later.

"No sign of him." Eileen said promptly.

"Me either." Teddy looked more worried than he normally let on.

"This isn't good." CJ shook his head. "I found Victoire and Liv, and they haven't seen him either."

They stared at each other with deep frowns. Teddy broached an idea first. "I know I've been kind of stupid this term, but I have to ask; is Alf bothered about the baby at all?"

"You're not suggesting he ran away?" Eileen's voice was incredulous.

CJ calmed her down. "It's a fair question, Leenie, given that Teddy was gone all summer." CJ turned to face the other boy. "But if you had been in Godric's Hollow over those months Teddy, you'd have seen what I did...that Alf was okay with everything. I'm not going to pretend he might not have a moment or two of doubt here and there, but nothing like what you're talking about."

"Oi, you lot!" Hagrid waved over to them from across the fields. "the party's getting started! Inside with you, now!" The giant chuckled over to them.

Slowly, the three friends walked away towards the celebration, although at the moment none of them felt very happy.

WWWWWWW

Alf must have dozed off. He'd been woken in the middle of the night after all, and had been more than a little active in the ensuing hours. He was sprawled over George's lap; his Dad had one arm around him and the baby crooked in the other arm; he must have picked him up once more at some point. Alf gave a face spitting yawn and stretched slightly.

"My boys." A quiet voice came from the bed.

Alf froze, and then looked towards his step-mother. Miss Shell's face was no longer flushed and the rash was gone; she was smiling quite placidly at the three of them, though she looked tired.

George snapped awake at the sound of her voice; then he reached a trembling hand forward as if to make sure she was recovered. Understanding his fear, she tried to sooth them both. "Woke up about an hour ago. Been watching you sleep ever since. Seem to have caused a bit of a fuss." She reached out and touched the sleeping bundle. "Is Frederick okay?"

George burst in to tears, and came forward, holding her up and placing the child in her arms. Alf sat on the other side of the bed helping to prop her up. George's head was buried in Michelle's hair; Alf's head laid on her shoulder, and the baby's eyes opened, and Alf would always swear he saw Freddo smile.

"Where is CJ?" Michelle asked, glancing about.

"Couldn't get him in here...funny rules they have...Dad, we've got to get him!" Alf urged.

"We will...I'll send your grandfather as soon as we get done with these idiots." George forced himself to calm down , still trembling, though his tears had stopped.

At that moment there was a thunderous crash, and the door burst open with a gust of smoke. A yelling medi-witch was using curse words that made Alf cover Freddo's ears.

"Get out of my way you harpy, we are going in to see George!"

As the smoke cleared, Percy Weasley was revealed at the front of a group of wizards and witches: Harry, Hermione, Bill, Charlie, Ron, Molly and Arthur. Each of them with their wands drawn and looking fit to be tied.

"Took you lot long enough." George shakily joked. "Alf found a way in here hours ago!"

The fat medi-witch came in shaking with rage. "Really most irregular, I will have you arrested, and that man should not be near that baby, he might kill it..."

"IF YOU SUGGEST ONE MORE TIME THAT MY SON WOULD HURT HIS OWN CHILD..." Molly screeched.

"I am a special adjunct to the Minister of Magic and I will have your medical license for this..." Harry threatened.

"...Against every basic aspect of wizarding law, clearly closer investigation needs to be made..." Hermione threatened.

Percy's glasses were askew as he continued, "Additionally, clearly my sister in law is NOT dead, and no harm has come to ANYONE..."

Alf chuckled, and reached over to lift the baby up. "Freddo, meet your family. In all their glory!"

Wide eyes looked over the assembled mélange of fighting people, and then turned back to Alf in what almost seemed to be disbelief; Alf held back a chuckle, and leaning his head against his step-mother, took hold of Freddo's tiny hand with a sigh. "You get used to it. Promise!"


	7. Ch 7 Anxiety

CJ sat on to the Hogwarts Express feeling more than a little lost. He had absolutely no clue what had happened to Alf or to Alf's grandfather. The only thing he had been absolutely able to piece together was that Alf had been pulled from his house last night at the request of the Headmistress. That he'd gotten from Darius.

Unfortunately the Headmistress had been called away earlier in the day, and he found himself floundering a bit. If the deputy headmaster, Professor Grainsworth, knew anything, he wasn't sharing. And CJ, after a while, was afraid to ask too many questions. It was better to feel forgotten than to discover that the forgetting was intentional, after all.

Eileen sat across from him, and Liv and Victoire were there as well. Teddy was not present. Andromeda had picked Teddy up directly from the school, which had been a bit of a surprise; CJ had rather thought it was Harry's year for Christmas. But _Teddy_ hadn't seemed surprised, and so they had parted; Teddy had urged CJ to write at once as soon as he got to the bottom of the mystery.

Now they were pulling in to London, and CJ was wondering: if Alf and George didn't show up, would he be welcome at Victoire's house? He knew Bill the least well of the Weasley clan, and had always had a bit of a feeling that the eldest brother didn't really approve of him.

Liv was silent as well for much of the trip. She had confided in CJ a sneaking fear that _her_ father would not show up to take her home; he had sent a letter a few days after Parent's Weekend claiming that the restaurant had been overly busy and he couldn't get away. Liv didn't seem to believe that one bit, though CJ had encouraged her not to dwell on her fears. Still, he understood them, and had stoutly said that if Billy were stupid enough not to show up, that she could certainly come home with him and Alf.

Foolish, perhaps. Perhaps he had gotten too used to thinking of Alf's house as his house, of Alf's family as his family. Actually, as Alf's half sister, Liv certainly had more claim on kinship than he did. Perhaps it was he who was not welcome.

As the train pulled in, he rose quickly; Eileen was peering out the window; he was afraid to look. Instead, he focused on helping Liv and Victoire with their bags.

"I don't see Alf or George." Eileen observed.

"Papa will know what happened, surely." Victoire said, quite soothingly.

"Let's go and find him, then." Liv hopped off the train, and CJ followed.

There seemed to be even larger multitudes of people on the platform that usual, and the normal merriment of the season accompanied everything. Yet every step CJ took seemed to make him feel ill.

"There's my father." Eileen said, She hesitated looking over at CJ.

"Go on, Leenie. I'll write with news. Promise." CJ tried to sound as if he hadn't a care in the world. He knew Eileen would see right through him; he also knew that she was not going to embarrass him by calling him out on it. She gave his wrist a quick squeeze, and then she disappeared into the masses.

Liv suddenly gasped. "Dad! Here, Dad, here!" She called out, leaping upwards quickly, nearly knocking CJ over.

Billy Woodruff certainly seemed happy enough to see his daughter. His face grew in to a wide grin, and he shuffled over. "There, my girl…been a while, I know. Changes we've had, might surprise you…but there, it's Christmas, and yer home!" He actually laughed when she hugged him, and he lifted her up. "Arg, Girl, you're taller by half I think!"

As he put her down, she looked sheepishly at CJ, who gave her a confident smile and waved her on.

Beyond them, Victoire was engulfed by her father, and feeling somewhat queasy he began to start forward, hoping that the man would give him some idea what was going on, when someone called out loudly. "CJ! Here, CJ!"

Neither Alf nor George; it was Harry Potter who'd come for him.

This was a little bit of a relief; at least he was going back to Godric's Hollow. He stepped quickly forward, even as Harry darted around the crowds to see him.

As they reached each other, they immediately accosted each other with questions that surprised them both, to different degrees.

"What happened to Alf, Uncle Harry?"

"Where is Teddy?"

They paused and looked at each other, and then simultaneously went towards the next question.

"Didn't anybody tell you?"

"What, don't you know?"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Harry spoke with quick urgency. "Alf is fine…Michelle had the baby, it's a boy…there were complications." Harry frowned. "They really should have told you this at school."

"Well, they didn't." CJ felt cross with a combination of relief and ire that he had been so completely forgotten. But he knew that Harry's question needed an answer as well. "As for Teddy, his Gran picked him up at school." He replied.

"WHAT?" Harry gasped. "It's _my_ year." He complained.

"That's what I thought, but Teddy seemed to be expecting her." CJ added

Harry scowled, looking frustrated. "I know I was annoyed about that little stunt he pulled, but she could hardly think that would mean I didn't want him for the holiday." Then, he gave himself a little shake. "And I shouldn't be burdening you with this…come, I'll drive you home. The idiots we've had to deal with for the past day are not to be believed."

CJ followed Harry out of the station, wanting one thing answered. "You said there were complications?"

"Michelle nearly died." Harry said, in such a matter of fact manner that CJ almost fell over. Fortunately Harry continued. "But she's doing much better now, and the baby is wonderful. They're still at the hospital; if they don't release Michelle tonight I would imagine that you'll spend the night with us."

_Why can't I go see them? I want to see them too! _But CJ didn't say anything; that would be whining, and that was something he'd never really learned how to do. Because it certainly wouldn't have done him any good growing up.

WWWWWWW

Arriving at Harry's house in Godric's Hollow, the reaction when they entered was immediate. James and Albus looked up from some arts and craft project Ginny had set them on, and exclaimed at once, "Where's Teddy?" with extreme disappointment. Ginny also frowned, and said to Harry's explanation, "But it is _our _year."

There was a tremendous amount of moaning and wondering on the subject; meanwhile, CJ very quietly hung up his jacket and stood out of the way, wondering if he should put his bag up in the guest room or simply wait in the living room to see what was up. It was Lily, who was just over three years old, who noticed him. "Hi, Ceejay. Up?" She beamed at him, holding her arms out.

CJ was happy to oblige, and not entirely because he knew that if one ignored Lily, they did so at their own peril. There was something comforting in the fact that she at least was happy to see him. As he rested her on his hip, she turned her head engagingly to the side, twirling one of her auburn pigtails around her finger as she studied him. "You stay?" She asked, pleadingly.

"Dunno, Lily...depends on a lot of things." CJ said, bouncing her lightly.

"Oh, CJ!" Ginny came up short from where she'd been trying to calm down the boys, who were still upset about Teddy. "George is still at the hospital last I checked, so you'd best spend the night here. Spare room okay?" She smoothed her hair back, looking over towards Harry, who was rapidly writing out a letter, to Andromeda Tonks, CJ guessed.

"Of course it's fine." CJ said automatically. "Do we know how Miss Shell and the baby are doing?" He asked, somewhat timidly.

"Oh, they're doing just splendidly now, though Michelle gave us all quite a scare. And what Alf went through..." Ginny just shook her head, and then turned as James flicked a brush full of paint at his younger brother. "JAMES, what are you DOING?"

Chaos ensued, and CJ took the opportunity to put Lily down, and quietly picked up his bag and headed up stairs.

WWWWWWW

George waited patiently for the medi-wizard to complete his exam of Michelle, hoping desperately that he would let her go home tonight. He was exhausted, between the labor and the danger and the emotional upheaval and the fighting, ending with Alf's triumphant conquering of all that was stupid at St. Mungo's. He wanted to go home, he wanted to take his sons with him, and he wanted to see CJ in the worst way.

All the fighting, and they hadn't succeeded in changing anything immediately about the situation, and CJ would still not be allowed in to see them. It was true that they had managed to get dispensation on that stupid rule of George not being allowed near the baby, and it was also true that now Percy was a man on a mission and no doubt St. Mungo's would be in for a complete overhaul once his brother got hold of Kingsley's ear. That is, if Kingsley wasn't mad at George. But for the moment, for the time being, George just felt lucky that they'd let Alf stay with him, and that his parents were waiting word downstairs.

Alf was sleeping soundly, sprawled in the chair in a way that could only be comfortable to someone under twenty. One hand of his rested persistently on the bassinette, where the already nicknamed Freddo was sleeping. A smile came to his face; Alf, for all his worries and fears, had responded splendidly. Once presented with a crisis, he'd risen over everything for the sake of his family. And George could see already that the two boys would be as thick as thieves.

"Mr. Weasley." The wizard in charge of the ward turned to him. "I am going to just run a few more tests in my potions lab, but it does look like your wife had a very quick recovery. It will take some time, but I see no reason why after that you shouldn't return to your home later tonight."

"That." George said tiredly. "Is the first sensible thing anyone has said to me today."

He came back over to Michelle's bed, sitting on the edge and reaching down to hold her hand. "Holding up okay, love?" He asked gently.

"Frustrated, like you are." She smiled at him with reassurance. "I am _feeling_ fine, though. Just my dumb luck to contract a stupid virus that strikes one witch in ten million!"

"And here I only was giving you credit for being one in a million." He quipped, kissing her hand. She snorted, and then glanced over towards Alf. "He's out cold." She murmured affectionately.

"Considering he was roused from his bed in the middle of the night and thrown into chaos, not surprising." George chuckled. "Katie's brains and Fred's machinations...we should be thankful he isn't prone to mischief!"

"If he were, I'm not sure we'd ever know." Michelle squeezed his hand, and then gave him a serious, worried look. "What is happening with CJ, George? He must be beside himself."

"Harry went to pick him up. Dad was going to go, but Harry has Teddy for the break anyway, so it only made sense. This way, when we get home tonight, he'll be there. I'm sure Harry will explain the whole thing to him."

"I still wish he were here. Wish he'd been here with Alf, actually; could have helped him out. When I think of Alf stuck all alone with no immediate way in here..." George felt her tension rising, and he stroked the back of her neck gently to sooth her. "I know, I know...what's past is past." She looked at him appealingly. "Get us out of here, please?"

"It will be my pleasure!"

WWWWWWW

Letter from Harry Potter to Andromeda Tonks

_Andromeda..._

_I am curious as to why you made a point of picking up Teddy from Hogwarts, when we had already arranged that it was to be my year to have him with the family for Christmas?_

_I know that I was quite angry over his escapades this past October, but surely you did not think this would mean I wanted him for this holiday any less? Worse, I hope __he__ doesn't think that! I love him as dearly as my own sons, and the fact that he made one mistake, or even a hundred, would never change that._

_Perhaps you have some reason that I don't know about for wishing him to be with you this Christmas, and I might even understand that in some circumstances, but there could be no occasion for your spiriting him away without letting me know about it. As it happens, I needed to go to greet the express anyway in order to pick up CJ Diggory, but had that not been the case I would have been standing there waiting for someone who was never going to arrive, and probably quite convinced that the boy had run away or been kidnapped, or some other terrible situation!_

_I admit I am quite angry about this, and the fact that you are not answering your floo isn't helping. Is Teddy in some situation I need to be aware of? We have always worked together quite well to raise him, as Remus and Dora would have wanted, and I hate to think of that changing. Teddy's father was quite important to me, and you know I always adored your daughter; never would I let harm come to their son._

_Please contact me at once to explain what is going on here. I am quite frustrated, and even more concerned._

_Sincerely, _

_Harry Potter._

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

This pretty much sucks.

Uncle Harry is in the midst of a mild meltdown over Teddy's absence, which is entirely understandable, since it seems that Teddy's Gran never told him she was taking him this Christmas. I can hardly fault him for that. Still, he's spent a whole lot of time testing and dismissing a whole variety of theories on why this might have happened, and not so much time explaining exactly what has befallen Uncle George, Alf, Michelle and the baby.

From what I can gather, Michelle got sick and they thought she might die. But now everything is fine and although there was a bad scare, they ought to be coming home by tomorrow morning. Only I'm not exactly sure why nobody told me this at school, and it seems petty of me, but I wonder why I can't go visit them. Why didn't they call me when they called Alf?

Uncle Harry did mutter something cryptic about the rules at St. Mungo's and how archaic they are, but I don't see what that's got to do with me.

I want to be with them, and I can't understand why I am not.

Unless, of course, they don't want me.

I keep going back and forth between telling myself that that's a really unworthy thought, after everything that George has done for me, and then thinking that everything they've done for me must pale in comparison to the arrival of a new baby. I am NOT a blood relative, after all; why would I be included in what is a purely family event?

I keep thinking back to something Liv had let slip over Parent's Weekend, when she said that surely I must see that George loves me. It had taken me by surprise, then; I knew George liked me, certainly, as the friend of his son, and I knew that he cared about me more than any other living human ever had, but that does not necessarily equate love. George Weasley is a good man. He saw what my father was doing to me and knew it was wrong. That's why he stepped in.

But after Liv made that comment, I suppose I've been sort of hoping that she was right. That maybe he did love me, a little. That he and Miss Shell cared about me, maybe not as much as they cared about Alf, but some, anyway. Only, I'm here, and they're elsewhere, a perfect little family, without me.

Stupid of me to have hoped for more, I guess. My own father wasn't capable of loving me, why should somebody else's father do so in his stead?

And I hate myself for being all angry and stupid, and ungrateful.

I want to go home. But I'm not sure that I have one.

WWWWWWW

It was close to midnight when George got everyone settled in the house. Alf was groggy and had stumbled out of the fireplace and right up to bed; Michelle had to feed the baby and then had immediately fallen out herself. For a while the baby had been awake, fussing and gurgling, and George had gladly walked him all about the kitchen, puttering about and chatting with him the whole time, until the little rug rat fell asleep and George could put him down.

After he did so, George looked restlessly about. He'd gotten Harry's note saying that he had CJ, and that the young man was staying over there. Objectively he'd understood; they hadn't made it back home until two hours ago and that hadn't been guaranteed; the red tape (what a wonderful muggle expression he wished he'd never had occasion to learn!) at St. Mungo's was not to be believed. Certainly it wouldn't have done to have CJ stuck in the house by himself.

But now that things had settled, and as tired as George was, he wasn't thinking objectively. What he was thinking was that he wanted CJ in the house where he belonged. And a nagging irritation came over him; if it had been Alf, Harry probably wouldn't have thought twice about waiting up with him until George got home, to send him home to the family. Of course, if it had been Alf, Alf would have flat out refused to move until he knew the family was safe and sound. But CJ wasn't Alf; he just wasn't secure enough to stand up to an adult to get what he wanted.

Surely CJ would, if consulted, want to be here.

The cat curled around his feet; George picked Rufus up, and let the cat nuzzle him for a moment, before he hopped out of his arms. Tail up and with pride, he strode to the door, and sat and looked at George pointedly.

"I get the hint." George smirked, going over to open it up.

Rufus didn't move, just kept staring at him; then he wound himself around George's legs, before resuming his pose at the door, and again, meeting George with a determined gaze.

"Oh. Right. I get the hint now." George smiled, and rubbed his face. Hell, he needed to shave...but he didn't suppose CJ would care. He walked out the door and looked back at the cat. "If Harry hexes me, it's on your head."

WWWWWWW

As it turned out, Harry was still up when he got there. "Hey, you...shouldn't you be changing diapers or something?" His brother-in-law joked, though he looked exhausted and frustrated.

"Done twice, actually. I just came to fetch CJ...figured he'd do best at home." George said, then looked Harry up and down. "You look like crap."

"Always one to mince words." Harry smirked. "But yeah, Andromeda took Teddy and I'm waiting to figure out why. And where."

George was rather startled. "Harry...you don't think she's up to something? I mean, _Andromeda_?"

"Doesn't seem likely...but I won't rest easy until I know what's going on." He shrugged, then raised an eyebrow at George. "CJ was perfectly welcome to spend the night, you know."

"Oh, I know. I just will feel better when I have everyone under the roof, so to speak." George hesitated, but figured that pointing out the little discrepancy in how CJ'd been treated wasn't really worth going in to at the moment, not with Harry's worries. If only Shacklebolt had let him adopt CJ formally...then there would be no ambiguity in what the boy meant to him and Shell and Alf at all. "Mind if I go grab him?"

"Of course not. Then do yourself a favor and get some sleep. Trust me, you'll be needing it." Harry managed to laugh at him.

WWWWWWW

George shook CJ's shoulder gently, and after a few moments, the boy blinked his eyes open and looked at George. For a second George saw surprise, then relief, then caution, all moving so quickly that if he hadn't been looking for a reaction, he'd have missed it. George rubbed the kid's forehead gently. "We've missed you. Thought you might want to come home." He said.

No mistaking the reaction then. CJ's eyes flooded with tears. George didn't say a thing, but he lifted CJ forward and hugged him close. "Michelle's just fine...the baby is fine. Did Harry explain to you that we couldn't get you into St. Mungo's because of their archaic blood relationship rules?" He wondered suddenly, realizing that as preoccupied as Harry was with the situation with Teddy, it might not have been top of mind.

A correct assumption, it turned out. CJ didn't speak, but shook his head 'no' against George's shirt. George patted his back gently and let him compose himself; CJ didn't often let himself get emotional. George kept speaking. "Alf almost couldn't get in either, because he isn't a blood relative of Michelle. But he outsmarted them all. Used his blood relationship to the baby to get in and then summoned Delwyn to fetch Harry's invisibility cloak. You should have seen the look on my face when his disembodied voice started speaking to me!"

That got a chuckle, and a response. "I would have liked to have seen that." CJ managed, pulling away and pretending like he was quite calm. "You didn't have to come get me tonight." He added, sounding rather guilty. "You must be tired."

"Not tired enough to comfortably sleep knowing a member of my family who should be home wasn't." George said firmly. "Now...let's get you in to your own bed, eh?"

George guided him out the door and across the yard, keeping his hand draped on his shoulder. CJ took a deep breath and spoke to him. "Nobody at school knew what happened. Nobody would tell me anything. I was really worried." Then, he rushed on. "I don't mean to complain, of course; I know you had other things to worry about."

"You have every right to complain." George said, squeezing his arm. "If it had been me, waking up one morning with all my family absent, I'd have fairly howled the castle down. And Professor McGonagall should have told you, because she knew."

"She was called away." CJ said. "And Darius only knew that Alf had been sent home because of an emergency."

They made it in the front door; the cat was now curled up in his bed, purring loudly in his sleep. George made a mental note to get him a can of tuna tomorrow. He waved the lights out and with only his wand in a lumos mode, followed CJ up the stairs. CJ paused at the top. "Can I see the baby?" He asked, tentatively.

George smiled, and let CJ in the nursery. The baby was sound asleep, his tiny fists curled up tight and a little pout on his face. CJ smiled. "He looks like you. And Alf." He said.

"Has Michelle's eyes." George put in, still overwhelmed at the sight of the tiny boy. "Alf's already calling him Freddo." He added.

"Well, he needed a nickname." CJ reached in and very carefully pulled the little blanket up, before giving a fierce yawn.

"Alright, bed time for both of us, eh?" George kissed the top of CJ's head, and accepted the hug he got in return, before he boy turned away and out the room. He then took another look down at Freddo, still sleeping soundly in his crib.

"Now maybe I can get a few winks, eh, kiddo?" He teased, stroking the infant's head and chuckling as the red hair refused to lie flat. "I know you won't give me much."

And with that, George Weasley, father of three, turned and walked back to his bedroom, wondering how on earth he'd ever gotten so lucky.


	8. Ch 8 Memories

Author's note: sorry for the posting delay..the flu got me!

"I don't have to go." George offered.

Tonight was the annual reunion at the Leaky Cauldron. This year's planning had been in Neville Longbottom's hands, which meant he wasn't risking life and limb by not showing up. And he rather fancied that having one's wife give birth just three days previously was excuse enough for him to stay home.

"Don't be an idiot, George." Michelle, looking quite as though she had never had so much as a hiccup in the whole process, was rocking the baby to sleep after his rather active morning. Freddo had quickly established himself to be alert and watchful, always fighting against closing his eyes in the fear that he might miss something worth noting. Once asleep, he slept soundly and without incident.

Alf and CJ were immersed in a game of chess...battleship was out of the question if they wanted Freddo to remain quiet. Alf looked up after a rather tricky move. "Dad...everyone's going to want to see pictures and hear all about how Miss Shell is."

CJ, stalling for time in his own play, added in, "If you don't go they're just going to be all over Aunt Gin for information."

_Okay, so maybe I would be at risk of life and limb._ George mused.

"Look, hon, I'm not suggesting you stay out for six hours. But you can certainly go for a few, have a pint or two, show off some photographs...one of the seven dozen you've taken already...and then come home. Besides, I have the boys here to help out with Freddo."

George looked around at each one of them with a fond smile. "But what if I'd rather be here with the four of you?"

"Well of course you'd rather be here with us." Alf said, eyes twinkling. "But that's no excuse to shirk your responsibility, Dad." And then, Alf grinned broadly, eying CJ's move. "Check mate!"

CJ groaned. "I need Eileen here...her at least I have a chance of beating!"

George laughed and roughed up CJ's hair. "You need to practice against Ron." He watched as the boys cleaned up the game. "And if I'm going to go to this thing tonight, I need to head to Diagon Alley for a bit. Neville put out a call for photos from our Hogwarts days, and most of my old stuff is still stored in the flat."

Michelle glanced up at him with a smile. "You might want to bring some of those home, George. Sometimes it seems like your life began when you moved here."

"Ha!" George ignored her tease, and leaned over her; Freddo's eyes were now solidly closed. "You want me to bring him upstairs before I go?"

"If you would, dear...not that he's heavy, but I still find the stairs a bit taxing." She confessed, though it looked like it was killing her to admit it.

"Oi..." George turned and looked at the boys, who both answered him without him even asking the question.

"We'll keep an eye on her..." Alf said immediately.

CJ folded his arms. "We'll make sure one of us helps her up the stairs."

"Or whatever else." Alf finished.

"Right. Clearly in excellent hands." With great care he lifted the small, warm bundle that was his son from Michelle's arms; it seemed impossible at this moment that someday this tiny being would grow in to the size of Alf or CJ. He gave Michelle a quick kiss, winked at the boys, and went to put Freddo to bed, before going on about his business.

WWWWWWW

The little flat that for too many years he had called home was generally in disuse now; ever since he'd bought the house he'd only come back in emergencies, or when he'd been forced to a late night at the shop. There had been a few of those after Alf went to Hogwarts and before he'd gotten married. A house, after all, belonged to a family, not to one man.

Which is not to say that it was in any way untidy. He'd send the elves he'd come into possession of by every once in a while to dust and tidy up. So he had no trouble locating the boxes he'd stored many years ago, boxes of photos too painful to look at for too long. Now, those boxes and the albums that they contained came out.

For an hour, George lost himself in the memories. Here…here he was with Fred their first day at Hogwarts; there was his Mum looking worried, and his dad looking moderately confused and wary. Percy stood just behind their waving faces, looking straight ahead and not smiling; Charlie, who had been in his seventh year then, was flirting shamelessly with some girl in the background. Yes, that photo was a keeper; it seemed to sum up so much of what the family was.

And this one…yes…their first Quidditch game their second year. The Captain right after Charlie had been a seventh year named Carter Choudhurry…boy, he'd had no clue what he'd been in for. Even in the photo, he seemed unaware that Fred and George had spelled his shoes to stick to the ground. It was clear that Fred and George knew, though.

Ah, and this one…third year. Christmas. He and Fred trying to teach poor Harry how to play wizard's chess, and undoing all the bad advice he'd gotten from Percy. All of them in Mum's sweaters, even Harry, who'd been so much a part of their family. Gosh, how _young_ Harry and Ron looked here; they'd have been younger even than Alf and CJ at that time. So little that any of them could guess what would be waiting for them in the future.

Fourth year. A rare moment of him and Fred being serious. Serious because they were with Ginny, and there was little that was more important to them than their keeping care of their baby sister. Ginny was looking shyly at the camera, bashful, and he and Fred stood protectively on either side. _Fat lot of good it did, eh, Fred?_ George thought. _It was Harry who saved her._ Appropriate, though.

Fifth year. And the photo that most represented that year, the year that Sirius Black had escaped from prison, was one they hadn't realized had been taken. Colin Creevy, bless him, had caught them neatly in a bit of history making mischief and never even realized hit. It was a photo of the two of them passing on a bit of parchment to Harry. That little bit of parchment that just happened to reveal all of the hidden passages in the school, and the whereabouts of every person on the grounds. That just happened to have been invented by Harry's father, among others. They hadn't know that last bit, of course. _Poor Colin, should have had a long career as a photo journalist. _Instead, he had fallen, like Fred had. This photo deserved to be chosen on that account alone.

Sixth year. He'd have expected to be choosing a photo of the Yule Ball, the fateful pairing and exchange of Fred, George, Angelina and Katie. But instead, he came across something so surprisingly poignant, and almost prophetic, that it brought him to a standstill. He found a photo of himself…alone.

Him, alone, at Hogwarts, was as likely as finding a photo of Percy pranking Filch. But there it was. The photo had been taken by Fred; he knew that by the raised eyebrow glare that he was shooting at the photographer. But Fred had come upon him in a moment of solitude; he was sitting on a rock by the lake, and jotting something down on a bit of parchment. In the photograph, he altered between studiously putting the right words down on paper, looking up and realizing he'd been caught by Fred, and after a blush of surprise, an angry glare, and the mouthing of a few choice words that alas, did not translate even to magical film. He could, however, hear Fred's laughter in his mind.

He never told Fred what he'd been doing. It had been early in the year, before that Yule ball, and George had still had a bit of a crush on Katie Bell. He'd been desperately trying to write a letter…it might actually have even been a poem…to explain his feelings for her. He remembered well enough his shock and anger at Fred catching him, which he'd quickly escalated into a pranking war, because he could never, ever, let Fred know _that_. Then, of course, it became plain that Fred was in love with Katie himself, and she with Fred, and Angelina captured his eye. Well, they had only been sixteen after all.

Seventh year had been a disaster, no matter how you looked at it. Their first real hint that the world that had comforted them, that had sheltered them, was crumbling around them. Dolores Umbridge and everything she stood for. Harry, tormented and growing old for his years. Kids on edge. Dumbledore, suddenly seeming vulnerable. How that year had changed them. How little he really understood it while he was living it. There, in a photo, he and Fred, clear eyed and standing strong, ready to go out on the Quidditch field together, for what they did not know would be the last time.

With a sigh, George sat back. He rather thought he'd chosen wisely, and he was glad to see that although he felt a certain amount of nostalgia, the experience had been far more full of happy memories than sad ones. It was his life, and he was mostly proud of it.

A lone photo slipped out of the box just as George was getting ready to leave. He bent down to pick it up, not quite recognizing it for a moment. "What's this?" He asked, not able to place it immediately. Oh, he recognized the place right enough...it was the main salesroom of the shop, by the registers. Ron was present, mugging for the camera as he usually did. Another man stood off to the side. It was by appearances taken in a quiet moment, and Ron kept giving the other person worried glances.

George flipped over to the back of the photo, to the magical date stamp. The photo had been taken May 30th, 2008. Once more he turned and studied the subject matter more carefully. Then he gave a little gasp.

The man in the photo he didn't recognize was himself.

Only he was more like a ghost. So pale, so still, so...dead. Eyes veiled against laughter and happiness, face taut with loss and void of emotion. Going through the motions of work, forcing a smile at the camera, though clearly not really smiling at all, was that George Weasley. And Ron beside him, worrying about him, wanting to make something better, but not knowing how.

George sat back on his haunches, with the wind nearly knocked out of him. This was who he had been, not so very long ago. He had thought, ten years after Fred's death, that he'd been getting along okay, that he was managing just fine. Clearly he'd been delusional. The man in the photograph wasn't happy, he was just there. Waiting for each day to end, patiently counting out the sands as they dripped through the hourglass, perhaps not inviting death, but not adverse to it either. Bloody hell, no wonder everyone had been so blasted concerned.

The photo would have been taken just a few weeks before Alf has suddenly shown up on his doorstep and turned his life inside out.

He wanted to talk to the photo, to reach in there and shake some sense into the man he had been, to let him know that things could and would be better, that there was still point and purpose to life. That in less than two weeks from that frozen moment, gears would be set in motion that would change him forever, and for better. He wanted to tell that George that one day he would look back on this moment and be amazed at just how much he had worth living for.

_You weren't listening to me then._ Fred said in his mind. _I kept trying to tell you that._

_I don't suppose I was listening to anybody_. George realized. _How lucky I am that I didn't give up?_

_Not just you, George. If you had given up, where would that have left Alf? Oh, anybody else in the family would have taken him in, but you know it wouldn't have been the same. And what about Michelle? Still living in the States, denying her heritage? And let's not even get in to CJ..._

George smiled. _Alright, you win. I'm bloody glad I didn't manage to off myself back in 98, and even more glad that I kept persevering even when I wasn't sure why I was. _

The voice inside him stilled, and he could hear Ron shuffling about in the shop downstairs. He'd be expected to leave with him soon. Gently, he tucked that photo away in his shirt, having no intention of sharing it with others but planning on keeping it for his own memory, to know what he had gained, to remember what he had almost thrown away.

WWWWWWW

Letter from Teddy Lupin to Harry Potter:

Dear Uncle Harry...

Gran asked me to write to you to let you know I am doing fine. There seems to have been a bit of a mix-up; I thought she had told you about me staying with her this Christmas, and she thought I had told you. So nobody told you. Please don't be mad at me...it's just that I really need to be with her this year. I am so sorry that things happened the way that they did.

We're going to be traveling for a bit, so we'll be rather hard to reach. But know that I am thinking of you guys. Constantly.

Teddy."

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

Another Christmas break almost done with, this one having started quite eventfully and with a whole lot of confusion. Some of which hasn't quite cleared up.

First off, the baby. I had been really worried when I realized what was going on that I'd overvalued my place in the household. I can't say that I've entirely stopped worrying, although Miss Shell has been fantastic, and Uncle George couldn't have been nicer, coming to get me like he did even though he didn't need to, and he must have been tired. It's funny, though; somehow everything that happened in this emergency totally blasted away any fears Alf still carried about the baby taking his place.

And they seem to have been transferred to me. When I had never worried about it at all!

Christmas was relatively quiet. Understandably, we did not venture to the Burrow this year, but did our gifts quietly at home in Godric's Hollow. Folks have come by to see Freddo in small bunches, but given Miss Shell's sickness and all the drama, George made a flat out edict that the four of us would have a nice quiet Christmas at home, and he was cooking for it. It was wonderful, honestly; Alf and I went out sledding in the afternoon, and even got Uncle George to have a bit of a snowball fight while Miss Shell held the baby at the window, watching us. As terrific as Christmas has been at the Burrow, I think I might have liked this one even better.

Little Freddo is really something. I've never seen a baby so watchful. He sees _everything_! And he particularly loves watching Alf; whenever he's in the room Freddo's eyes follow him everywhere. He is a good baby, really, though when he is hungry he has a set of lungs that are not to be believed!

Anyway, one bit of confusion not cleared up is the mystery of Teddy Lupin. Uncle Harry never did get a clear answer about why he was with Andromeda over Christmas...just a letter where Teddy seemed afraid he'd made Harry angry. Uncle Harry was quite beside himself, saying over and over again he wasn't angry at Teddy, but at Andromeda, and couldn't understand why she isn't answering him. Only he doesn't have a way to floo to Teddy to talk to him in person.

It occurs to me that Andromeda Tonks is being VERY unwise. If there's one wizard in this world whose bad side you wouldn't want to be on, it's Harry Potter!

Anyway, when Alf and I heard what was going on, we marched over to Uncle Harry's house and told him all about our suspicions from school, and our plan of action. He was really worried by the time we were done, especially as we filled in the missing holes for him...things that we finally realized made sense, that he could be hiding injury with his special skills, that somebody might be hurting him. Though of course we're not sure about that. Still, it set Harry to thinking right enough. I think it's a case where before he'd never have suspected anything nefarious from Andromeda, but given how she's been acting this Christmas, he is starting to believe.

We had another bit of info, something Eileen wrote to us about just a day after the break, in response to my owl to her about Alf and the baby. Anyway, Leenie wrote that Teddy had let slip that Andromeda had taken Teddy to a doctor for something over the summer. And Uncle Harry hadn't had a clue about it, about any medical issues. And he should...he is Teddy's Godfather and shares guardianship.

He's asked us, quite seriously, to keep track of Teddy's bad spells and keep him updated about how he was doing. We had just decided before the break that we thought he was just shy of having another one...there's a way he walks when he's unguarded that shows his pain. Of course, Alf and I thought we'd be able to nail down a specific date for the worst point of his spells, but since he was taken from our sight that isn't happening.

I think Uncle Harry was just really grateful to have somebody looking out for Teddy. He mentioned being glad that we'd gotten over his attitude at the beginning of the year, and we'd both just shrugged. Teddy's our friend. We won't walk away from him. No matter what.

Oh, one other funny thing...Alf got a letter from Liv. Turns out the real reason Billy didn't show up at Parent's Weekend was that the restaurant is going under. He'd been desperately trying to save it and working all hours, but to no avail. She says he's really busted up about it and even worried about paying her school bills. And the woman he'd been dating when she started school had dumped him because of it. Alf actually felt really bad about everything, which kind of surprised me. But he actually went to George to see if there wasn't anything they could do, for Liv or for Billy. I am now totally confident that there is no way Liv would be tossed out of Hogwarts; knowing George he'd pay for everything without a thought, but I don't think that's what Alf is looking for. I think he wants to help Billy. Lord knows why.

I'm writing this from the living room. There is a lovely warm fire going; Rufus is sprawled out on the carpet like a giant purring rug. Alf is beside him, finishing up his potions essay. The baby is in a carrier that rocks gently too and fro, and he's watching a mobile of flying creatures suspended above him. Miss Shell is sleeping, leaning in to Uncle George's arms, and he is flicking the channels about on his magical television, going from cooking show to cooking show, in a variety of languages.

All and all, it's hard to imagine a more perfect place, a more perfect moment, or a more perfect family than this.

WWWWWWW

Teddy curled up in bed, glad he was going to be able to go back to school in a few days. He was fully recovered from his bout with moon-sickness; the full moon had actually hit on Christmas Eve.

He missed everything. Harry, Ginny, the kids, George and Alf and CJ and Miss Shell and all the crazy Weasley clan. This Christmas he had spent, well, chained to a bed post waiting to see what happened.

Bad luck that the full moon hit when it did. And as he had been doing, at Andromeda's instructions, he'd conjured shackles to keep him tied to the post and free from wandering. That little bout of sleep walking he'd had happen during October was _not_ to be repeated.

His Gran had watched over him, and confirmed that though he went into a strange, pain riddled trance, and attempted to wrest himself away from the bed violently, he did not actually become a werewolf. Well, that was a relief, sort of. If he'd been becoming a werewolf, there was medication for that. But at least it didn't seem likely that he would be hurting anybody. Except himself.

But the pain was getting worse. The day before and day of the moon change were excruciating, like a baby teething, but all over his body. And the day after he was exhausted. At least here, though, he didn't have to go through the pretense of keeping up his physical appearance. So the glamorous and handsome Teddy Lupin had disappeared, and what was in place would have shocked his friends, and made his god-father cry.

Without the wall afforded to him by his special skills, Teddy was gaunt, pale, nearly gray skinned. His hair had no luster and was matted with sweat, brittle and coarse. His eyes were dull brown and haunted with dark circles of pain. His lips were chapped and his shoulders were slumped, and he was tired. He looked a fright; even his Gran, sometimes, seemed wary about getting too close to him.

How on earth had his father learned to live with this?

How was he going to?

He'd feared that Andromeda wouldn't let him go back to Hogwarts, but after she'd checked the calendars and cautioned him on what days he must be particularly careful, she'd relented. He had a potion now that mimicked a particularly violent flu, and he had instructions to take it in the day before the full moon, to excuse him from classes. It ought to work.

But he worried about next year. And the future, as well. This couldn't go on for ever, couldn't be a secret from his god-father forever, nor from his friends. Gran had pretty much convinced him that the school would kick him out when they discovered his risk, and he knew full well that, while Harry might visit him if afflicted, he certainly wouldn't expose James and Albus and Lily to his dangers.

Still, he kept repeating to himself, he could handle this. He could, with his Gran's help, keep hiding this and keep going, if he worked hard at it. Because the thought of losing everything was just more than he could bear.

WWWWWWW

The day after the kids had headed back to school, George Weasley found himself eating lunch at a little restaurant in Sheffield. He asked himself twice over what it was that he was doing there. And he answered himself twice over that it was because Alf had asked him to help.

Money wasn't the issue, of course. Thankfully, because of the store George had the ability to be quite as generous as he could ever have hoped to be. And, despite the occasional dragon hide boots, he really wasn't extravagant either, except in what the might do for other people. So helping out someone in need was quite second nature to him.

Except in this case, he was considering helping out a man whom he'd just as soon hex as look at. When Alf had first shown up in his life, and he'd read Katie's letter, he'd had little respect for Billy, for sending an eleven year old boy off into a new world on his own. Then he'd seen how Billy had assaulted Alf, and that little respect had turned directly into loathing. Now, having personally met him, he'd resolved to be cordial, if only to keep things open between Alf and his half sister. But he still questioned the man's fortitude, his ability to be a good parent. He might, as Alf had insisted, have been a decent man, but that didn't make him a good father.

Still, it mattered to Alf, that Billy not lose everything that he and Katie had worked for. And so George was here, looking down with resolution on a plate of lamb stew, still waiting to see Billy, who wasn't in yet, so the waitress had told him. So he took a deep breath, and started to eat.

And discovered to his shock that the food was good. Quite good, actually; well seasoned, perfectly cooked and subtle. And the diners around him seemed to be enjoying their meals as well. The place was packed, clearly popular, and the food was fairly priced, though not too low either. Why on earth would this restaurant be failing?

"Oi...Weasley." The gruff voice of Billy Woodruff came up to him, his face lined with worry, though his eyes showed surprise. "Everything okay with my girl?" He asked immediately.

"Oh, yes...I'm not here for that." George said at once, then wondered what to say as to why he was here. He suspected Woodruff would be a proud man, and probably would rather George not realize he was in difficulties. "I, er, had some business in the neighborhood, and thought I'd stop in. Alf spent a lot of his childhood here, I know, and I wanted to see the place."

Woodruff took the seat opposite George with a heavy sigh. "Good thing you stopped in now, then. Place isn't likely to be here much longer. I'm going to have to call it quits. Place is going under"

"But WHY?" George asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice, but glad that Billy had brought it up. "I mean, the food is good, and you're running a packed house here."

Billy gave him a tight smile. "Thanks, there. Means a lot to me...Liv tells me you have a reputation as quite the cook yerself. But the building was sold six months ago, and the new landlord wants me out...he's gone and doubled the rent. Just can't pay that sort of money."

"Ah." Here George could empathize. He and Fred had made a conscious choice to buy the building in Diagon Alley all those years ago, but for a long time the place in Hogsmeade was a rental, and he knew what that was like. It was just this past summer that they were able to finally buy the owner out. "Can you re-open somewhere else?"

"Not likely. I've sunk everything into this place, and the cost and time of moving the setup and re-establishing in a new location would bankrupt me. If I want to keep the family going, I need to just pack it in, and go back to being a cook." He sighed. "Know what's worst about this? It was Katie who encouraged me to take over this place and give it a go. And it worked; well, you can see that. I feel like losing this, it's losing Katie again." Billy roused himself. "But you don't want to hear that. I know you loved her too."

George gave him a grim smile. "You keep forgetting that I'm not Alf's biological father, Woodruff. I did have a crush on Katie once, but it was my brother who loved her."

Billy was staring at George sadly. "Alf's a good kid. I do know that. I wish I could have loved him. But I could never compete with him for Katie."

"You never had to." George said. "My brother was gone. There was no reason you couldn't have loved him as your own. She would only have loved you more for it." George shook his head a bit, and drained the last of his pint.

"Boy must hate me." Billy grumbled, looking down at his gnarled hands.

"He doesn't." George said, surprised it would matter to him. "Quite the opposite, actually. He's..." George thought for a moment for the right words. "He's very generous, actually. I do think he wished he could have been closer to you...I think he wanted to. But he's very forgiving."

"He's a lot like Katie." Billy said, with great sadness. "I miss him. With Liv gone now too, it's just me and Len, and the two of us are really too much alike." Billy rose slowly. "Meal's on the house, Weasley, if you'd just leave a tip for the waitress. Don't tell me no, now...one meal isn't going to make or break me. And I do appreciate what you've done for my daughter, and what you've done for Alf. You didn't have to take him in."

_The hell I didn't._ George thought hotly, but Billy had already ambled away.

Leaving a five pound note on the table, he rose to leave, still thinking about that last remark. How could he have turned Alf away? Did Billy still not get it, or was it really remarkable that he should have taken Alf in to his life? And why did it really matter so much to Alf that the restaurant not fail?

Billy's words came back to him. _It was Katie who encouraged me to take over this place and give it a go._

Maybe Alf's concern wasn't so surprising after all.

WWWWWWW

Liv came over to Alf in the Ravenclaw common room , and gave him a huge hug. "Geroff me!" He laughed, good naturedly peeling her away. "What was that for anyway?"

"Whatever you did...it worked. Thanks."

"You're welcome. What the heck are you talking about?" He asked, grinning at her.

"Dad's restaurant. He just wrote me...said that the building owner was bought out by some conglomerate and wasn't going to raise his rent after all." Liv said, throwing herself down on the sofa.

"Glad to hear it. And this has what to do with me?" Alf teased.

"Nothing, I'm sure." She said, sounding quite superior. "I'm sure that there are plenty of firms named Wheezes, LTD out there."

Alf said nothing. But he turned back to his writing...he'd been in the midst of a letter home, actually, and added a post script:

"Dad...you are the greatest human being. Ever.

By the way...does this mean I now own a third of the restaurant, as well?

Kidding. Love, Alf."


	9. Ch 9: Epiphany

JANUARY

I like this place.

I wasn't too sure about everything when I first got here. It was cold. And I was alone. And there was a lot of noise and screaming at first, and then there wasn't any noise at all, and it got scary. I used to feel warm and safe and secure, and this funny sort of feeling inside me that everything was going to be alright, going to be wonderful. It was a feeling that made me tingle and stretch and try to get out there, to be in the wonderful that I could feel.

Thought I made a big mistake at first. The blanket was warm, but not warm like I was before, and everything smelled and seemed strange. I tried to speak out...as best as I could...but nobody seemed to want to answer me. And I felt alone.

Then there was this presence there...I could barely see it, but I could feel it. And it picked me up; it's bigger than I am, but it was warm. And it spoke, and made soothing sounds like I was used to before, only they sound different now. And then it held me and kept talking to me. I don't understand it, but I knew I would be okay. I trust it.

Then the presence took me to others. Others who I seemed to recognize by their touch and by their smell. I couldn't see too clearly...so many colors blurring together. But the sounds became soothing, rather than jarring, and the touch was universal. I knew I belonged here.

There had been a burst of sound then, lots of it, lots of confusion, but I felt safe, with my presence and with those he brought me to. I remember being held up to look on what was happening, and I could hear almost a laughing sound in the voice that spoke to me. I could barely see, but it was a little scary: what was happening out there? Still, I was with my people, those I belonged to, and I knew it would all be okay.

I can see better now. I recognize faces. My presence...my first one...I can spot quickly, and it always makes me happy when he is there. The other looks like him, but is bigger and stronger...higher, when he carries me. I like his voice, which makes me feel safe just hearing it. He has this funny thing he does with his mouth...I keep trying to do it back, because it seems to go with the laughing I like so much. But I can't, yet.

The other presence I am with most is softer, and I recognize the scent and the touch from the before time. Her scent is different, but no less secure. She feeds me and holds me, a little differently than the others. But whenever I am with one of them, I am safe.

The first presence often travels with another, the same size as him. His look is different, and it is not as secure when he holds me, like he is afraid I will break. But he's getting better at it. But he and the first presence have gone now, and I am just with the two big ones, the ones I belong to. I know the others will be back.

Every day things seem to make more sense, to have a bit of order. Certain others beyond the big ones who I see often I can recognize. The noises they make become more regular, almost rhythmic. But today is the best. Today they took me to this place, filled with color and that laughter I like, and music and sound. This place is perfect.

There he is again, doing that teeth thing. Maybe this time if I try...I can do it back.

WWWWWWWW

"Hey, Shell!" George exclaimed. "Freddo's smiling at me! Look, look at him!" He giggled, joy welling up in him at an almost overwhelming rate, making Freddo's smile more pronounced in return.

"Let me see..." Michelle came running from across the store. They'd brought Freddo, just one month old, into Wheezes for the first time today, in his bouncing seat secured behind the cash registers, where he could see everything that was going on. 'He IS! He IS smiling! Look at you, Freddo...already trying to charm the customers! That's my boy!"

"OUR boy." George said, with emphasis. "And isn't it the best smile you've ever seen?" He raised eyebrows at his young son, wiggling them and grinning even wider, feeling stupidly happy when Freddo almost appeared to mimic the eyebrow wiggle as well. "Look at him! Ruddy genius, he is...we may just have another Ravenclaw on our hands!"

"I'm not sure Minerva could take it." Michelle quipped, making equally funny faces at the baby. "What are you thinking, Freddo? Hm? Are you thinking your parents are crazy people? Because you'd be right on that count."

"Hey, Ron!" George called out to his brother. "Freddo's smiling."

"Gas." Ron said, with the world-wearied expression belonging to someone who'd already been through parenting twice.

"Shaddup." George shot him a nasty look. "He'll hex you if you're not careful."

"Right. He can't understand a bleeding word we're saying, George. He just likes the noise." Ron resumed cashing out with a smirk.

"Hmph." George looked down at his son with a glint in his eye. "You have my permission to start checking out the bat bogey curse as early as possible, Freddo!"

The baby just gurgled happily, looking from Michelle to George, a wide grin on his face and moving his newly discovered eyebrows up and down with renewed vigor. Ron, finished with a customer, came to look over George's shoulder at his newest nephew.

Freddo looked right at him with that big gaping grin, and then he sneezed…a sneeze that managed to travel much, much farther than normal and which sprayed Ron with mucus. George nearly fell into a laughing fit at Ron's look of disgust, while Michelle dabbed at Freddo's nose with a tissue.

"Well, it's not quite a bat bogey curse…but not bad for a first try there, buddy." She cooed.

"I…have…got…" George tried to calm his giggles. "To tell Alf about this one! Priceless!" George gasped for air.

Ron was wiping himself off ruefully. "That's your son alright, George…and aptly named, too. Don't get too used to sleeping at night!"

George grasped Freddo's food gently, and squeezed his toes, making the baby squirm. "Sleep is over-rated." He said, happily.

From the looks of it, Freddo quite agreed.

WWWWWWW

March…

It was just after St. Patrick's day that Alf broke the code.

He'd been in History of Magic…was there ever a class more tailor made to thinking about other things????...and simultaneously trying to finish his Astronomy homework while going over his notes about how Teddy was doing.

It hadn't been planned, of course, for him to be doing both. The Astronomy homework had to get done, and was his priority; he'd gotten so caught up in a special assignment for potions that completing his essay on moon phases had been quite forgotten. But he'd seen Teddy this morning, just recovered after his third bout with some mysterious flu he seemed prone to. And Teddy looked like hell, even behind the glamorous front he put up.

That had scared him a bit. Teddy normally was so forceful about keeping his looks up that for any sign of weakness to come through was nearly shocking. But he dutifully noted, in the cryptic code they were using, of what Teddy's bad days had been this month. And went back to his lunar charts.

He worked quietly, even as Binns droned on in the background, on charting the effects that the various stages of the moon had, in both magical and non magical ways. For the full moon, of course, the most magical and drastic effect, though now rare thanks to the death of Fenrir Grayback, was of converting lycanthropes.

Full moon. Werewolves. Alf kept his quill moving, even as something stirred in his brain. Last full moon was two days ago, March 16.

Teddy hit his peak of his illness…both the pain and the flu…on March 16th.

Hm.

A funny chill went down Alf's spine that he forced himself to ignore, and he casually flipped back through his calendar to check Teddy's last bad spell. And he actually shivered when he realized that it, too, had coincided with a full moon.

CJ noticed him shaking and quietly passed him a note, with a simple "?" on it. Alf shook his head, but sent back CJ a note that simply said, "wait."

He went over January. And then back to Christmas break, what they had pieced together of it. Back to November. And then back to that day in October when Teddy had been caught wandering the grounds. All full moon days. And the day or two on either side of them.

The nausea came up on him quickly, and he rose at once, gathering his books and darting out of the classroom, despite professor Binn's protests. Alf heard CJ make excuses for him, and then come up beside him just in time for Alf to actually throw up.

"Bloody hell, you really are sick!" CJ said at once.

"Not really." Alf insisted.

"All evidence to the contrary." CJ used his wand to clean the muck up, even as Professor Grainsworth came up to them.

"What's this about a disturbance in History of Magic?" The Deputy headmaster growled, then saw what CJ was doing. "Ah. Clearly a legitimate one. Mr. Diggory, please get your friend to Master Morgainne."

"Yes, Sir." CJ said, reaching over to Alf. Alf, though he knew he wasn't sick, was glad enough to lean on CJ, because what he'd realized had left him more than a little shaken up. CJ looked over his pale face with great concern. "I hope you're not coming down with what Teddy had."

Alf forced out a laugh that sounded awful even to his own ears. "I think I can positively say that I'm not, CJ." He looked over at his friend with eyes wide and concerned. "I've figured it out…everything Teddy's been trying to hide from us. And, Ceej, I'm scared."

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

Bloody hell, this just couldn't be any worse.

Alf went all shaky and sick looking in History of Magic today, and ended up barfing all over the hall outside the classroom, though he insisted he wasn't sick. Like I can't tell sick when I see it. Only, when I got him up to the infirmary, once Master Morgainne gave him a dose of some potion to quell his nausea, he pulled out his notes and explained to me what had come upon him in the dreary monotony of Binn's class.

Teddy is a werewolf.

Maybe. I mean, he can't be changing in full, somebody would have noticed that, right? In the few minutes I had with Alf before I was shooed off to Astronomy, we decided that he may not be a full out werewolf yet. Thing is, nobody really knows what happens to the children of werewolves, because they usually don't have any.

But I have to believe that if he's been transforming into a snarling, hairy beast intent on attacking all who came near, we'd have noticed. SOMEBODY would have noticed, right? Like somebody who shares a room with him?

Once Alf got sprung we found Eileen and let her in on it; she looked flummoxed and worried. She was the one, though, who asked some seemingly idle questions of some folks in Gryffindor about how Teddy is when in their dorm, and couldn't come up with anything unusual. So that seems pretty obvious…even a Gryffindor would have to notice one of their mates transforming into a werewolf once a month, right?

(I kid about the 'even a Gryffindor' reference, sort of. Thing is, they never seem to notice anything about one of their own, though they can be quick enough to find faults in others. Like they're too brave to be bothered by any little problems in their house, or something. Naturally, given Alf's extended family, not something I choose to bring up to him).

But anyway…this is bad. Serious bad, and we're not sure who to go to. And it doesn't seem the sort of thing that one puts into a letter to Uncle Harry. 'Hi, classes great, by the way Teddy's a werewolf.' Now if the Headmistress were around, we could go to her, but ever since Christmas, McGonagall's been scarce. Something up there, obviously, and we've taxed Alf's grandfather about it, but he puts us off. Which tells me that he knows what's up, and that he can't or won't tell us.

Anyway, it leaves my own head of house, Grainsworth, as acting Headmaster when she's not around. And he's okay, but I don't know that I trust him that much. He's got all the usual Slytherin traits, same ones I do, of cunning and stealth. Well, Slytherins also have blinding ambition. Mine is to achieve a normal life, which is a fairly harmless ambition as they go. But I suspect that Grainsworth's ambition is to be Headmaster.

He's a good professor, really knowledgeable about dark arts. He's Australian, and he was no death eater in the day. No dark mark, no dark soul. I don't think he's bad or cruel. But ambitious, yes, and I keep turning over what he would do with the information about Teddy if we gave it to him. Is there any way he could leverage this to his advantage? And where would that leave Teddy, if he could? Because if he could help Teddy, then he could take any advantage he wanted, I wouldn't care.

But if that advantage came at Teddy's expense, then I am afraid I have to object to it.

In the free period after dinner, when Teddy had retired, we got together to make a decision. Professor Morgainne was an option…she's been pretty decent to us ever since first year, and she knows Uncle Harry. But she's not in a position of power. Flitwick Alf adores, but likewise isn't sure he can be of any help in the situation. Master Morgainne we discussed at length…he's a healer and a humanitarian, and clearly a very principled man. He isn't in a position of power either, but as he's not really a professor (unless you count the two classes in advanced healing he's taken over from Miss Shell) he probably wouldn't feel bound to involve Grainsworth if he thought it was to Teddy's detriment.

In the end, we decided we'd actually first try Alf's Grandfather tomorrow. He doesn't stay at the school overnight, so we can't do it now. But, as Alf said, clearly the man feared nothing…look at for how long he stood against death eaters and Voldemort. And yet he'd always given home and refuge to Remus Lupin whenever it had been needed. Yes, Alf's grandfather is a good man. And besides, he goes home each night…he can see Harry immediately.

It's funny. My father tried to teach me to hate Harry Potter, but what I walked away from my childhood with, thanks to Cedric, was that Harry Potter was everything decent and honorable. It's almost childish, but I can't fight the feeling that somehow Harry Potter will make everything alright.

We have to try.

WWWWWWW

Amos Diggory relaxed in an opulent room in Dubrovnik. He was living in a castle of sorts, his quarters in the heart of the magical old city. He had a lovely view over the sea before him, which stretched blue and pristine.

He'd just heard, from his buddy Lucius Malfoy, that George Weasley had a son of his own now. He rather thought that Lucius expected him to be angry, to be frustrated. But he wasn't…on the contrary, it brought him great joy.

An additional mouth to feed just meant that George had more to lose than ever.

Part of him was curious…how would CJ fit in to the household? Would he remain as a part of the family, or would George back away from him, now that he had no need? What about Fred's bastard child? Would George reject him?

He sincerely hoped not, on both counts. Let good old Saint George keep taking in strays. After all, he had all the money he could ever wish for, thanks to Cedric's death. Yes, the more family George had, the more devastated it would be when his lifeblood was pulled out from under him. That store meant more to George than anything…he knew that well enough from the days just after Fred's death. Arthur had told him that the only thing that kept George going was the store. And now he really needed the store…he had a wife and three mouths to feed, if everything was the same with the older boys.

He had been quite pleased with CJ all in all when he'd seen him at Parent's Weekend. The boy had been quite forceful with his plan, with his certainty that the best way to really hurt George would be to turn on him only after his place in the family was assured, only after George really thought of him as another son. He hadn't thought the boy had it in him, but it turns out CJ might just be worthy after all. He was rather glad he had given the boy the option of living, if successful. Of course, the law would probably get hold of him, so he'd be living in Azkaban, but that was immaterial.

Across from him, his guest, Minister Filipowski, was studying him carefully. "You look remarkably happy, Mr. Diggory. You report back to England again not until September next, I have heard. Will you be able to see your son?"

Amos shrugged. "It is doubtful. But I understand he is doing well, and I know he is being loyal to me, to his name."

"Loyalty. Yes, it is important." Filipowski's gaze didn't waver. "You know we are still having problems in Serbia, with that faction following Bergamote."

Of course Diggory knew. Malfoy was still using him as a means of fomenting dissent between the Filipowski ministry and the wizards of eastern Europe. Half truths and forgotten communiqués, all very effective in undermining the free Wizard regime. Leaving it ripe for darkness.

Diggory wasn't even quite sure what it was about THIS dark wizard that Malfoy found so appealing. They were all the same in the end, weren't they? And funny how Malfoy professed his own superiority so loudly and tried to prove it by following a mad-man like a lemming. But none of that mattered to Amos. He had his own mission to follow.

Filipowski was still speaking. "…you will, of course, pass my message back to Minister Shacklebolt, yes? It is imperative that the centennial events go off with no problem. I need the best."

Diggory faked a smile. "But of course. You know I am here to ease your mind in any way that I can, Kasimir!"

Filipowski met his eye with a curious stare. "Yes,Diggory. I think I know you well."

WWWWWWW

Arthur looked down at the notes that Alf, CJ and Eileen had brought to him. He looked them over carefully, and then once again; Arthur had never been one to rush to judgment. Finally he turned first to his grand-son. "Are you positive of the dates, Alfred?"

"Yes, Sir." Alf said, quite surely. "Except for Christmas, of course…and now it makes sense that his Gran would want to have him away from everyone else."

Arthur exhaled with a whoosh. "I have to say, kids, that's the only problem I'm having with this. I've known Andromeda Tonks along time. She loves Teddy with all her being. I just can't see her allowing this to go on."

It was Eileen who answered. "Professor Weasley…I've been reading, you know, the history from when Remus Lupin was a student here. There were a lot of people who wanted him expelled, wanted him banished from England even. He was ostracized and an outcast. Don't you think it's possible that Teddy's Gran would be afraid of that happening to him?"

That hit Arthur hard. Because he could see that; could see her doing anything in her power to protect Teddy from the harshness life would deal him if the kids were right. Arthur looked down at the calendar. "The next full moon is over Easter." He thought this over. "We need to be careful. Without McGonagall here…"

"Isn't she coming back?" Alf asked in alarm.

Arthur cast a quick spell to ensure that unsuspecting ears couldn't hear them. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but she's been sick. Don't ask me to tell you more than that, because I won't. But the important thing is, she would absolutely be someone I could go to with this. I don't know Grainsworth well at all, but I don't trust him. Not with Teddy's future." He stared very seriously at each of them in turn. "You know what rumor and innuendo can do. If things get out about this, it won't matter whether you are right or wrong, Teddy could be scarred for life."

"But what do we do?" Alf asked plaintively.

Arthur sighed. "First off, I am going to give Harry a head's up as to what you have found. And I'm going to watch that boy carefully…involve Professor Morgainne as well with as much as I can, since she is his head of house. Harry will no doubt see what he can learn from Andromeda. If she asks to have him over Easter, that will be a pretty big sign." Arthur instinctively became a grandfather instead of a teacher, and roughed Alf's hair gently. "Good job."

"We all did it." Alf said at once, blushing a little nevertheless.

"Yes, you all did. I'm not sure how close to right you are, mind, but you are on to something." He rose, breathing deeply. "Say nothing to Teddy right now. I'm going to let Harry in on what you suspect, and we'll work out a plan. At least we'll have him home for the next moon change, and we can see what's really happening with him."

"Thanks Gramp…er….Professor." Alf said, rising, with CJ and Eileen following suit. "Is everything going okay back home?"

Arthur chuckled, looking from Alf to CJ and back again. "Your younger brother is possibly going to end up the most spoiled child in the history of wizardom, if your Grandmother has her way." He winked. "The little guy can actually whistle, you know!"

"No way!" Alf beamed.

CJ was curious. "Any accidental magic yet?"

"Well, they think he can sneeze on Ron on command, but I'm not sure that isn't wishful thinking on George's part. Plenty of time, though. Now go on, back to classes with you…and keep me posted on Teddy."

"A'ight. See you later!" Alf, CJ and Eileen trudged out of the classroom.

"There's Teddy now." Eileen pointed out.

Across the way, Teddy, looking strangely glamorous and yet vulnerable. He saw them and made a point of waving, though he turned away with some of his class mates. "You think those others care about him?" CJ asked.

"Not at all." Alf sighed. "I don't know why he'd rather hang out with them."

"Because they don't care about him." Eileen suddenly felt like she saw him clearly. "Because they wouldn't take the time to figure this out. He fears us."

Alf and CJ stopped still, and turned to look at her, then at each other.

"Damn!" CJ gaped. "That makes so much sense you're probably right. He knows he can't keep secrets from us!"

"Well, fat lot of good it did him." Alf jutted his chin out. "We're not going to rest until he's okay. And we're not freaking out if he is a werewolf…right?"

"Right." CJ and Eileen said together.

And the three of them headed back towards the great hall, more determined then ever to help out their friend.

WWWWWWW

George was in a mighty good mood as he ambled out of the house towards the garden, where he was going to do a bit of hoeing in preparation for spring. The baby was sleeping, his wife was delighted to discover she'd hit her pre-pregnancy weight (not that he cared, beautiful as she was in all circumstances), and Wheezes had just been awarded a major fireworks and novelty contract for next year's centennial celebration in Eastern Europe. Shacklebolt told him that Minister Filipowski wanted the best, and apparently he still considered that to be George.

This despite the lingering argument over CJ. But George had gotten a promise…if the commission to the Filipowski government went off well, Shacklebolt agreed to sign CJ's adoption papers personally. Well, it was a year away, but he'd take it.

In any event, life was as close to perfect as he'd ever really wish it to be. And with a whistle, he began to plot out what exactly he wanted to plant this year.

"George!" A voice called out to him. He looked up to see Harry heading over to chat, and he came up to the hedge that nominally divided their properties.

"Hey, Harry, how's it…" George fell silent as he saw Harry's grim, angry face. "Bloody hell, whatever it is, I hope it's not me who did it!" He murmured; the last time he saw Harry look like that it was over the manuscript.

"I just had a conversation with your Dad." Harry's lips were thin, white with anger. And within a few short sentences, he told George what Arthur had told him; what Alf, CJ and Eileen had divined about Teddy's strange behavior this year.

"Oh, no!" George took a deep breath. "Do you think they're right?"

"I think they're definitely on to something, anyway." Harry's chin jutted out. "And right now it's only the greatest restraint that's keeping me from hexing Andromeda into next week."

"Blimey." George reached a hand out to Harry's shoulder, to steady him. "Not that I blame you…if it were Alf or CJ in that situation, I'd be pissed to. But still…what are you going to do?"

"Well, Teddy's safe until the next full moon." Harry acknowledged a truth put to him by Arthur. "So I'm in a holding pattern. I don't want to make a fuss and be wrong…but if Andromeda tries to spirit him off before the holiday again, I'm going after her, George."

"Anything I can do?" He asked, worrying about the kids and how they were holding up.

"You already have, in a way…it was Alf who figured this out." Harry exhaled hard. "But thanks, George. I just needed to talk to someone for a bit."

"Harry, if he is…if it is the worst…what do you think you can do about it?" George worried, chewing on his lip carefully.

"Get him the same medication that Remus was on, for one. He was taking a something that greatly lessened his suffering during the change." Harry shrugged. "And there must be other advances, as well. But the kids don't think he's changing in full yet, so it may not be that bad."

"You should speak with Bill." George said, with inspiration. "I know he suffered in some strange ways after he was attacked…still can only eat raw meat."

A light came in to Harry's face then. "Great idea, actually. I'm hoping that it's not a full blown case. Maybe Bill can offer Teddy some insight, if he doesn't mind."

"Bill? Mind being the expert on something? Have you MET him?"

George took some pleasure in seeing Harry able to laugh just a little. Because he had a feeling that there wouldn't be much laughter for him in the next few weeks.


	10. Ch 10 Surprises: good or bad

Teddy was by himself in the common room. Several of his female housemates had tried to engage him in conversation, but he just wasn't up for it. He passed it off as needing to catch up on his work after his bout with the "flu", which satisfied them. The truth was, though, he was just too tired to keep up a pretense around them at the moment.

He stared morosely at his Gran's letter before letting it flit into the fireplace, where it evaporated in a puff of smoke. It had detailed her plans for spiriting him away for Easter break, even though he was supposed to be with Uncle Harry, again. Which just meant that Uncle Harry was going to be seriously angry. Again. But his attacks had been getting worse, not better, and he just couldn't risk having one while sharing a room with James. What if that shackle he'd gotten so good at conjuring failed?

With a wince, he rubbed his raw wrist gingerly. Man, it hurt. The full moon on the sixteenth had been bad this time, and he'd gone frantic within his sleep, apparently trying to get away. He was lucky his wrist wasn't broken.

When he'd written that to Andromeda, she'd been really worried, and quite insistent that they leave for Rumania over Easter, where she'd found some healer that might be able to help him out. But they couldn't tell anyone. Teddy knew full well what would happen if it got out in the school that he had signs of Lycanthropy. Hell, he knew what he went through just being the son of a werewolf, the prejudice he had to fight against. If _this_ got out...his life was as good as over.

He reached listlessly over to stoke the fire a bit, still feeling 'off' from his magically-induced illness. A voice spoke calmly to him.

"Mr. Lupin." Professor Morgainne's voice was firm but not angry. She grasped his outstretched arm just below the elbow and held it up for examination. "What has happened to your wrist?"

_Damn!_ Teddy thought. He'd never heard her come in. He thought furiously. "Was trying to spell my watch to be fancier." He lied quickly. "Backfired."

"I should say so." She gave him a curious look; he wasn't sure if she believed him or not. "Come."

He followed her into her offices, and sat where she told him to; she took a poultice out and wrapped it around his raw, blistered skin. "This should help. Funny...you're normally quite good at transfiguration. Very careless of you to let a spell slip like that."

Teddy blushed and looked away. "Just screwed up, is all."

"Mmm." Professor Morgainne said nothing else, though she watched him carefully. "I am your head of house, Mr. Lupin. You know you can come to me if somebody is threatening you. Or hurting you. I am here to help you."

He sighed, and forced himself to look her in the eye. "I've hurt myself, Professor. Nobody else has hurt me." It was the complete truth, and he was therefore quite confident in being believed.

And she did believe him, he could see that, though it surprised her. "Then I hope it does not happen again, Mr. Lupin. However, if it does...if you find yourself with a backfiring spell once more, please do come to me." She kept looking at him for a few more minutes, waiting for him to speak, and when he didn't she nodded at him in dismissal, and he walked away.

He found himself back up in the now quiet dorm room, and he pulled his curtains around him, spelling them once more to keep the sound of any dreams he might have away from his mates. He was over six feet tall, and looked every bit a man, but at the moment Teddy felt like a terrified five year old, just wanting to curl up in somebody's lap and have a good cry. And the somebody he wanted was his Uncle Harry, like when he'd been on the playground and some older kids had pushed him off a swing, calling him names for who his father had been.

He hugged that memory to himself, to a time when Uncle Harry had been the biggest, strongest, most important person in the world, and the one person he knew would never push him away. But that was a time before Teddy became what he was now, before he would pose a danger to James, Albus and Lily. And even if Uncle Harry wouldn't push him away, he loved his god-siblings too much to risk their lives.

He wanted...oh, he wanted to go back to being five years old again, and have everything be alright. But that just wasn't going to happen.

WWWWWWW

Minerva McGonagall was resting, her life long friend, the recently retired Pomona Sprout, watching her carefully. "I can't thank you enough, Pomona, for opening up your house to me."

Pomona shook her head. "After the terrible illness you had, it's the least I can do." She passed Minerva a cup of tea. "But why is everything so secretive? Shouldn't you be heading back to school?"

Minerva sipped the tea appreciatively, gathering her thoughts. "Pomona...strange things have been happening to me..." Her mind drifted.

It had been just after she'd sent Alfred Weasley to his family that she'd first come over ill. Strange how it had settled on her, and how violent her illness had been. Fever and chills and nausea, lightheaded and dazed. Cotswold Grainsworth had managed to spirit her off to a healer and she'd improved a bit. Well enough to go back to Hogwarts, anyway, and just in time to chew out Grainsworth for how he'd handled the situation with CJ Diggory.

But the illness kept recurring. And she worried...if she weren't able to work more than a day or two at a time, might the board of directors not consider replacing her?

In the end, she took a leave of absence. They'd granted that willingly; after all it had been Minerva who'd held together the school in the years after Voldemort, who kept things together no matter how dark. But she'd left in secret, with none but the board knowing her story, not even her staff. They knew she was ill...they did not know where she was going for recovery.

Because Minerva was beginning to suspect something wasn't quite normal with this illness. And she had help in looking in to it. She had old friends, trusted friends, and they were working quietly on her side. While she rested in a villa in Tuscany with Pomona, now almost thoroughly recovered from her symptoms., they were investigating things.

"Pomona, I'm doing what I need to do." Minerva loved Hogwarts with an intensity that was scary, and she wasn't giving up her life there without a fight. "Please trust me on this."

"Always have, Minerva." Sprout chuckled. "Glad for the company, anyway. You sit back and relax; you deserve a bit of rest."

_Rest. Time to rest later. I should be teaching. And I will be teaching once again. I will._

WWWWWWW

The wives of the Weasley (and Potter) households were gathered at Fortescues. A day out, a day's break. Molly, with help of George and Percy, were watching the children at the Burrow, and Ginny, Penny, Hermione, Fleur and Michelle were gathered around copious sundaes and giggling like school girls. Except for Michelle, who kept worriedly looking at a spelled coin she carried.

"You know, my mother has watched infants before. Rumor has it, anyway." Ginny deadpanned.

Michelle blushed, and managed a laugh at herself. "I'm terrible, aren't I? It's the first time I've been away from him and I feel like I've abandoned the little guy."

"Eet gets easier, as time goes on. With Victoire, I waz alwayz worried." Fleur smiled serenely, dipping in to her Sunday. "Now, of course, eet is not so bad. Zo I will worry now about my Ricky."

"Worry about Ricky's teachers!" Ginny replied. Her oldest nephew was a major handful. He was in day school now, and already running everyone ragged with his pranks.

"Yez, but I waz at home before." Fleur said. "Now I will not be, if zer iz a problem."

Fleur had just been appointed as the Medi-witch in charge of reforming the Maternity Wing at St. Mungo's. This of course being the result of the great debacle that had nearly happened during baby Freddo's birth. Percy had pushed, prodded, schemed, manipulated, and officiated everyone at the ministry to the breaking point until they gave in and agreed that reform was needed.

"Just make sure his teachers know that they can call any of us if he's in need of help." Penny soothed. "We've always been there for each other; we're not about to stop now."

Michelle turned to Penny. "I've heard that Little Ced cursed a lawn gnome?"

Percy's wife rolled her eyes. "Not even two years old and doing magic. Consciously, too...the little bugger nipped his finger, and he stupefied it."

"The bat bogey curse is next." Ginny said, sagely. "Or that may be a more female trait."

Hermione nodded fervently. "That one is Rosie's favorite. It must be some kind of genetic marker with the Weasley clan...right along with the red hair! I swear, the first time I saw Ron coming out of her bath with tiny bats pouring out of his nose..." She started to giggle, and all the ladies joined in.

"I think Fred and George might have taught me that when I was just a toddler." Ginny mused fondly, scraping caramel from the bottom of the glass. "Nobody was happier than they were when _I_nailed Ron with it the first time. Of course, I did make them come to regret it...on many occasions!"

"So I've heard." Michelle teased. "Every time George goes to get Freddo when he's really fussing, he holds him at arms length for a second or two, making sure he's not in the line of fire."

"Is Freddo still the budding musician?" Penny asked.

"Whistling with whatever music is in the background, yep." Michelle was still wondering about that herself. "I sure can't sing, but George has a lovely voice, so that must be where he gets it from. Amazing skill, though…he can even mimic the birds outside his window!" Michelle looked around when she realized that all the other women were staring at her. "What?"

"George? Has a lovely voice?" Ginny gaped.

Hermione continued. "George Weasley? You're joking, right?"

Michelle was confused. "An absolutely lovely voice, yes." She blinked around at them. "Tenor. Sounds wonderful. Don't tell me you've never heard him sing?"

"Oh, I've heard him sing!" Penny said, quite seriously. "Every start of term, him and Fred with that dreadful dirge version of the school song."

"Always thought George had a voice like a toad." Hermione said. "No offense."

"I'd say we were confusing them...but they both sounded the same to me. Absoltuely ghastly!" Ginny emphasized.

Michelle shook her head. "I swear, this isn't a case of love being blind, or rather deaf. He really can sing!"

Three suspicious stares of disbelief answered her. Fleur had never known George to sing, so she could hardly take sides. Ginny finally shrugged. "If you say so, I suppose...but I can assure you, if you'd been at school with us, you'd be shocked too!"

WWWWWWW

"Oi, Ricky, where are you…Gran has lunch ready!" George called out into the yard.

It hadn't been a bad day so far. Even with the multitude of kids they were watching, all had seemed to be going well. James was playing nicely with Albus and Rosie; Hugo and Lily and Perri were set to finger painting outside, and toddling Ced was in a playpen amusing himself. Freddo was napping at the moment, after an active morning where Percy had entertained him with WoWo tricks.

Ricky, two years older than James, had been a bit of a handful…he always was. He'd be off to Hogwarts next year, just behind his sister, and he clearly felt out of place within this grouping.

George finally found him, of all places, resting on Fred's grave. His knees were drawn up to his chin, his silver eyes narrowed and his red hair pushed off his face while he pouted. "Hey, Ricky…what's wrong?" George asked, sitting next to him. "Not hungry for lunch?"

"Everyone hates me." Ricky grumbled.

"Okaaaaaaaay." George was really puzzled. "Does this have something to do with your having put a dung-bomb next to James's bike?"

"I thought it was _funny_!" He protested, plaintively.

Actually, George had kind of thought it was funny too…James could be such a wise ass sometimes and he'd been bragging on that muggle bike like it was the greatest thing ever. He was the only one who could ride it, and that made him insufferable. Molly had been less than amused, though, at the mess left behind by Ricky's response.

Still, George's lips twitched as he thought of it, and he had to fight to keep a proper, fatherly look about him. "Perhaps a less messy way of getting to James would have been better, for Gran's sake?" He nudged him gently.

Ricky huffed. "I guess. It's just. I'm not a Weasley!" He protested.

George made a show of reaching over and lifting up a strand of Ricky's hair, one eyebrow raised.

"I mean…" Ricky continued. "Mum was a bloody tri-wizard champion, and Dad was head boy…everyone in the family was successful…now Alf is in Ravenclaw, and so is Victoire! I know I'm not that smart, and not that talented. I feel like…like…"

"Like a neighbor?" George said, with sudden understanding.

"YEAH!" Ricky looked up with wide eyes. "Like I don't belong! But nobody understands that."

"I do."

"Geroff." Ricky scoffed. "You're the most successful of all!"

Holy hell, when had THAT happened? George wondered. "Ricky, there are so many things that I could say to that. First, success isn't about money, and I hope you know that. Your Gran and Grampa raised seven kids without much money, but we were happy and we loved each other. THAT's success, Ricky. But as for me not understanding you…you know, Fred and I were the only ones in the family who never made prefect?"

That surprised his nephew. "But why?"

"Because Fred and I were much more concerned with having a good time. Oh, we were smart enough, but we were never the brains that Bill and Percy and, I hate to say this, Ron were. And never quite as athletic as Charlie. For a long time we thought we only had one real gift…and that was for making trouble!"

"Like me!" Ricky said at once.

"Right. Only unlike you, I had company." George felt a small pang, but he gave Ricky a smile. "But we began to realize that we had another gift…a gift to make people laugh. Trouble for the sake of trouble wasn't much fun…but trouble that brought a smile to someone's face, who was otherwise having a bad day, was a whole different thing. And that's when we found our way." George got up, and offered a hand to Ricky, lifting him to his feet. "So you're a Weasley, right enough, Ricky…you just need to channel your talents in the right way."

Ricky flashed him a big smile, and then asked quickly. "Gran didn't make corned beef for lunch, did she?"

George laughed outright. "WEASLEY, through and through. And no…I brought a beef stew. Off with you, now!" George laughed as Ricky ran tearing towards the house, and set to following him at a slower pace.

"Well done, George."

"Mum!" George turned in surprise as his mother came from around a hedge. "Didn't see you there!"

"I was looking for him too, dear." She came up beside George, and grasped his arm as they walked back towards the house. "You handled that brilliantly."

George blushed, but smiled after him. "He's okay, Ricky is. Just, as Fleur would say, "Eye Speereets."

Molly chuckled. "As she would also say, not unlike his namesake. Or you." She looked up at him. "And you are successful, George." She pointed out.

"Never said I wasn't." George answered her. "I just wanted him to understand that it isn't the store that makes me so."

Molly sighed as they approached the house. "Happily married father of three. You're the only one who still has a shot of having seven kids, realistically!"

George came up short and looked at his mother in happy surprise. "Thank you."

"For what?" She asked.

"For seeing that I have three kids." George replied.

"I have eyes in my head, George." She looked into the kitchen, where Percy was coping surprisingly well, now with Ricky's help, at getting food out to all the brood. "Alf is as much your son as Fred's, and CJ is just a part of the family now."

"Yeah, but people don't always realize it." George shrugged. "But me, last fall when we ran in to Amos Diggory, the fear that I felt was no different then when I've thought Alf was in danger. He's my son…OUR son, too. Like Alf and like Freddo." George gave a little scowl. "I can't tell you how many idiots in the past three months have asked me what it felt like to FINALLY be a father. Like, where have they been for the past three years?"

"My Grandma Hattie had a muggle saying that I think is appropriate, dear." Molly teased him. "God must have loved stupid people…he made so many of them!"

George laughed, feeling glad to know that Molly had managed to so totally understanding him, and wondering if he would ever not be surprised by his mother.

He rather hoped not.

WWWWWWW

"Why doesn't your family know you can sing, George?"

It was evening. They were at home in the kitchen, George getting some writing done...he was up to book four of the Harry Potter chronicles...and she was swinging the baby back and forth, as he fought off sleep as per usual.

George looked up at her, startled out of his thoughts. "Come again, love?"

"Today at Fortescues, I mentioned that Freddo seemed to have inherited your gift of music, and your sister, and sisters in law, acted stunned that I thought you had one." She offered the baby a pacifier as he started to fuss a little, he took it begrudgingly, as if he were aware of what she was up to. His eyes did begin to droop, however.

"Oh, er. My voice isn't really that good." George protested.

Michelle sat upright. "George Weasley!" She exclaimed, quickly regretting it as Freddo's eyes popped wide open, his mouth now working the pacifier double time. "You have a beautiful voice, you know you do!"

"Really, not so much. Or maybe you bring out the best in me." He tried to joke. "Nobody ever liked my voice before."

She crossed her arms in front of her and raised eyebrows at him. Freddo, overtired but unwilling to admit it, suddenly let up a whimper that was threatening to turn in to a wail. And Michelle watched, her mouth twitching, as George rushed forward to pick him up, cradling him in his arms and immediately crooning a gentle lullaby in his perfect tenor. After about five minutes, the baby was sleeping soundly, George smiling gently down at him. He lifted his head, and gave Michelle a very sheepish grin. "I'll just go put him down, eh?" He blushed as he turned away.

She waited until he came back down to the kitchen, and then she came forward and put her arms around him. "So...why am I the only one who knows you can sing? Beside the baby, now."

"It's complicated." George murmured, nuzzling the top of her head.

"And what about you isn't?" She replied.

He gave a little laugh. "Point." He took a deep breath. "Fred couldn't sing."

She waited for more. When George made no move to speak, she stood a little back from him. "And?"

"And...we couldn't be different. I didn't want us to be different. I knew I could sing okay...I'd hum along with things quietly when I was a kid. But when we were first at Hogwarts Flitwick had tryouts for the choir. At the time tryouts were mandatory, and Fred, being older by all of five minutes and also alphabetically my senior, went first." George's eyes grew a little sad. "Fred was actually quite bad. I mean, horrifically bad. Though he was trying really hard. It wasn't one of those times that he was goofing off on purpose." George's gaze went hard. "And everyone laughed at him. Kind of quiet at first, little snickers here and there, and then some seriously nasty comments. It bothered him; really, really, bothered him. Well, I wasn't going to let anyone laugh at Fred. So when I went next, I sang worse."

"On purpose." Michelle said, leaning her head against his chest.

"Very much so; very off key and very loud at the same time. And then Charlie got wind that people were laughing at us and he threatened to rip their vocal chords out. You didn't mess with Charlie, mind." George gave a little shrug. "But after that, it was set as almost a joke. The Weasley twins couldn't sing, not that we didn't stop from trying. And we always chose whatever song we could make sound worst, and sang it loudest, like the school song."

"In dirge melody." Michelle remembered the story from the afternoon. "And you never let on?"

"Not till you." George shrugged. "You caught me off guard, you know, the first time you heard my voice...across the pond and incognito. I didn't even think about it."

"You don't even sing 'happy birthday'!" She realized with a start. "You've always been silent at parties when we sang."

"At the long ago request of my family. It just seemed easier to humor them." He admitted. "Never bothered me much." He kissed her tenderly. "So you get to see a side of me, again, that others don't. Is that really such a bad thing, love?" He murmured.

"Not as long as you promise to keep singing to me." She agreed. Then she wiggled an eyebrow for emphasis. "Freddo's likely to be asleep for a good couple of hours."

George just grinned before kissing her more deeply, glad for their life together.

WWWWWWW

"...so that's what the kids suspect is going on. Anyway, it was George who thought you might be able to offer some insight as to what Teddy is going through. Any ideas, Bill?"

Bill Weasley sat across from Harry at the Leaky Cauldron. He was in town on Gringot's business and Harry had caught up to him and asked him to lunch. He had a bowl of the pea soup...still as dangerous as ever...and was making a show of adding a dash of pepper while Harry waited for him to reply. Because he was quite unsure how to articulate exactly what he was thinking.

"Teddy. You want me to help Teddy." Bill stirred the soup, then took a careful sip, stalling for time. "That would be your god-son, the one who ripped my daughter's heart out last summer?" Bill finally leveled an even gaze at Harry.

Harry came up short at that. "Well...yes. He's just a kid, Bill. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt Victoire."

"Didn't mean to hurt her. Right. He accidentally called her a silly child, accidentally ignored her for a whole month, and accidentally has treated her terribly all school year. Right. He didn't mean to do any of that, I'm sure." Bill turned back to his soup, letting Harry splutter in indignation.

"Bill...wait, what do you mean treated her terribly all year?" Harry ran his fingers through his hair in surprise.

"She does write home, you know. He won't speak to her, won't even smile at her, brushes past her like she doesn't exist." Bill huffed. "Look, I'm not saying that he should have been her best friend, but he's known her since she was born and he always treated her like she was special. And she always stuck up for him when others wouldn't. What he's done to her has been really inexcusable, and here you are asking me to help him."

"Ruddy hell Bill!" Harry huffed out. "He's a _kid!_ Just turned fourteen years old. I know he looks like a man now, but he's still just a little boy." Harry set his shoulders. "And, if the other kids are correct, he's a scared little boy. One who's going through horrible changes, way beyond puberty. Things that no kid should have to deal with alone. Look, I'm not going to excuse every choice he's made this year, but I can certainly forgive it, because even I never knew what he must have been going through. And I'd be willing to bet that Victoire would forgive him too, if she knew what he was dealing with. God, Bill, didn't you ever do anything stupid at the age of fourteen?"

Bill rubbed his head furiously. He hated to admit it, but Harry did have a point. It's just that with Teddy being so tall and so adult looking it was easy to forget how young he was. And, of course, he had been a bigger ass than Teddy, and with far less reason. "Alright." He said, finally.

"Alright?" Harry said, in surprise.

"Aright. I'll help him." Bill rubbed at his scarred face thoughtfully. "After I was attacked, I went through a really bad year, although not many people knew it. It took time and some careful investigation into some potions to come up with something to relieve me, but the pain I went through around the full moon was fierce."

"I didn't know you took meds for it." Harry replied.

"Yeah...I don't talk about it much. You know how Mum would have fussed. Anyway, as long as I take the medication, all that I have to really deal with frequently is the taste for raw meat." Bill thought more, and then scowled. "I had Fleur with me through the changes; Teddy shouldn't be handling them alone. What is Andromeda thinking?"

"I don't know." Harry answered honestly. "I spoke with her about Easter, and she _seems_ to be fine with Teddy being with us. But I still plan on being there early to pick him up. Actually think I'm going to go to the school to meet him, rather than expect him off the train."

"Wise move. And wiser still not to let her know what you were thinking." Bill agreed. "You wouldn't remember this, because they weren't letting you know order business back in the day, but Andromeda was very much against Dora and Remus marrying."

"What?"

"Yeah...she liked Remus well enough, but she harped, constantly, on her fear for what a child would have to endure if it inherited Remus's issues. By the time we rescued you from Privet Drive, she'd accepted it. Still, I bet if it were over the summer that Teddy had started having these episodes, I can see her panicking." Bill was quickly forgetting Teddy's slight of Victoire as he began to put himself in the kid's situation. "We'll get him through this, Harry." He paused. "If you're right, that is. But what if you're not."

Harry drew up his shoulders. "Then I swear, I am locking myself in a room with him and not letting either of us out until he tells me what in the blazes is going on. He's hurting others, and he's hurting himself, and this has to stop."

Bill remembered how crushed Victoire was by Teddy's changes, and thought he couldn't agree more.

WWWWWWW

Easter. Leaving tomorrow. Teddy was pretty sure that Gran would be meeting him at Hogwarts instead of at the train. She'd promised to tell Harry this time that they would be together. Twice Teddy had almost written to him, to make sure she'd done it, but he felt guilty...Andromeda was good with a guilt trip...about doubting her. Besides, what would happen if he told his god-father? They would argue, they would fight, and somehow Harry would end up finding out his secret. He couldn't have that.

He walked towards his common room after dinner, hoping that this healer in Romania would be better than the others. But before he could turn the corner, Professor Grainsworth put a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Lupin? Your Grandmother is here."

"Already?" Teddy gaped in surprise. "I didn't expect her yet."

"I gather not. I took the liberty of getting your bag from your room. I trust you packed well?" The Defense Against Dark Arts teacher spoke in low tones.

"I...er...well, yes, I was ready to leave tomorrow, but..."

"Excellent. Come with me to my office, where she is waiting. You can floo from there." A firm hand guided him away.

"But my friends will be expecting me." Teddy protested. Then he saw where they were heading. "And this is Professor McGonagall's office, not yours!" He said, stoutly.

The hand on his shoulder gripped him painfully, making Teddy wince. "It's mine at the moment." He snarled. "And your Grandmother wants you now, not later."

"Teddy!" Andromeda said, as he walked in the door. "Please don't put up a fuss, dear...this is all for the best, you know."

Teddy felt his throat closing up. He was terribly afraid it wasn't for the best, and somehow he knew...she didn't mean for him to come back this time.

"I don't want to go away." He said, wondering if there was any way to break and run for it.

"I won't have them tormenting you." She said, firmly. "This isn't where you belong."

_No, no, no...I don't want to go. Oh, why didn't I say something to someone...to Alf or CJ or Eileen? Even to Professor Morgainne? How will anybody find me?_

"Come, dear..." She reached out to grasp his arm. He was bigger than her; he could fight her off. But Professor Grainsworth was taller, and more solidly built. He'd never break away. His shoulders slumped heavily, and he went forward to the floo, wishing he could somehow undo every decision he'd made all year.

But done was done. And Teddy stepped into the fire of a bleak future, convinced he was going away for good.


	11. Ch 11 Bad Moon Rising

"It will be okay Teddy." Andromeda tried soothing. "You'll like it here. And you'll be able to go back as soon as we get everything under control."

Teddy slouched on the sofa, leaning against a pillow, feeling a heaviness about him that he just couldn't shake. They were in a gloomy stronghold somewhere in the countryside just outside of Bucharest., in a rambling old house that had been divided up into suites. Apparently this was a specific medical clinic that dealt with extreme magical maladies, including Lycanthropy. The Doctor, Senior Dragasani, had not looked in on him yet. But the entire place just flat out gave him the creeps.

"What if I don't get it under control, Gran?" He asked, forcing himself to look over at her, golden eyes wide with worry. He was keeping up his appearance as much as he could; his natural looks now seemed to frighten her.

"You will." She came and sat beside him, taking his hands and looking at him very earnestly. "Teddy, you must! You _cannot_ live as a werewolf. We will fight for you...I will fight for you, I swear. You will not be a werewolf." Andromeda dropped his hands as a chime sounded in the next room. "I'll be right back, dear...don't fret now."

He turned back away and leaned half-heartedly against the pillow, thinking it was too late to tell him not to fret. What he'd wanted to hear from her, what he'd _needed_ to hear from her, was that she'd still love him even if he was a werewolf. But clearly that was not the case. A grandson who was a werewolf was unacceptable to her. He felt his throat close up a little as he fought down the lump that seemed to be threatening to burst.

When they had thought Alf might be a squib, Uncle George had gone out of his way to make sure it wouldn't make a damned bit of difference if he never got his magic back, he would still love him the same. And Teddy knew George meant it, that the whole family had meant it. Hell, _he_ had meant it, that he wouldn't stop being Alf's friend just because he couldn't wave a wand.

Of course, it ended up being a moot point with Alf. But he wasn't so lucky, it seemed. Was it too much to hope for that he would still be her grandson if he was flawed?

With a sigh of resignation, he let his guard down, let his appearance slip. His face became gaunt and his hair matted, his skin grey and his eyes a dull brown. What did it matter at this point anyway?

"And here is our patient, I presume?" A thin, spare wizard who Teddy presumed to be Senior Dragasani. Teddy heard his Gran draw her breath when she spotted how Teddy had let himself go.

"He doesn't normally look so ghastly. Teddy, dear, you mustn't let your metamorphagy down like that!" She paled as she looked at him, her hand over her mouth.

"Now, now, Mrs. Tonks...it must take up quite a lot of energy for him to put up that front. Energy we're going to be needing him to direct in to other areas." Dragasani gave him a thin smile, and Teddy sighed in relief; it was so good to not have to fight it anymore. He looked with hope up at the man who came and sat beside him; the Doctor's dark hair was streaked with gray and slicked back; his face was pale and he wore a monocle. Carefully he put his hand on Teddy's face and held his chin forward, looking seriously in to his eyes.

"Hm." The doctor said quietly.

Then, without warning, he slapped Teddy across the face, forward and back, three times, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Andromeda yelled, while Teddy gasped in pain and fought hard to keep from crying out.

Dragasani held his chin once more, and smiled. "Good, very good. See, if he were showing full werewolf tendencies, that would have angered him, set him into a rage."

"It's angered _me_!" Andromeda snapped.

The doctor quelled her with a glare. "Do you want your grandson to be cured, or no? Would you rather see him suffering a little now, or ostracized for the rest of his life, living in poverty on the streets?" He looked back at Teddy, who was shaking and who tried to press himself back into the sofa away from this man. "Now, young man, I am sure you know I wish only the best for you. You do not wish to be an outcast, a freak, hm?" Teddy winced and, as Dragasani let go of him, let his head droop back down to the arm of the sofa, where he pulled a pillow close to his chest.

A conversation ensued then, between Andromeda and this man, that he tuned out. He felt light-headed and sick. It was just two days away from the moon-change and every joint in his body ached; now his face stung with the surprising blows he'd just received. His grandmother was disgusted by him and the Doctor had just told him he was a freak.

Teddy's lower lip quivered. He wanted Harry, now. He wanted to be in Godric's hollow with James and Lily and Albus around vying for his attention. He wanted to be out with Alf and CJ on broomsticks, tossing the quaffle about; he pictured Easter last year, when they'd been able to talk Harry, George and Ginny in to joining them, playing three on three against each other.

He remembered getting a nasty gash on his knee, and Aunt Gin and how wonderfully sensible she was about patching him up, and Uncle Harry worrying anxiously by the bathroom door. He thought about dinner last year, and everyone gathered around the table with George's rack of lamb and piles of side dishes, and pie, and how happy everyone was.

He wondered if he'd ever be allowed to be happy again.

He became aware of his surroundings again only because Andromeda called out his name. He blinked once and looked at her. She had her coat on and was holding her bag. A wild sense of relief filled him...she was taking him away from here! Thank goodness!

"Be good for the Doctor now, Teddy." She said quietly. "I'll be back to visit as soon as he will allow it."

_She's leaving me????????????_

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide and begging, and she looked away. "The doctor says it is best if he works with you one on one, and that it might not be very pleasant for me to be here through the moon change..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at him once more. "His father was a vampire, Teddy; he knows what you are going through. He _can_ cure you."

It felt like the bottom fell out of his world. He let his head sink back to the chair, misery rolling over him like the waves of the ocean. He found his voice, and tried to get something, anything, from her. "Uncle Harry wouldn't leave me here alone." He said, though he knew it sounded sulky.

Andromeda toughened herself up, holding her shoulders straight. "Do you believe your Uncle Harry would have allowed you, in your condition, within fifty feet of his house?" She pointed out, sounding hurt at his accusation. "He has his own children to consider."

Teddy closed his eyes once, blinking hard, and then looked away, staring listlessly into the fire. She came up beside him, bent over and kissed him on the head. "I do love you, Teddy dear. I want to see you get better."

"Love you too." Teddy said, although so softly it was hard to hear. "I'll do my best, Gran."

But how did you fight something you couldn't control, something that was born inside of you?

"I know you will." She stroked his head gently, and then he heard her footsteps walk away, the door closing behind her. The door closing on his life.

WWWWWWW

Alf, CJ, and Eileen met for breakfast at their special table, though they were now joined by others on occasion. On this day, though, only Liv and Victoire were with them, and the entire hall seemed to buzz in excitment for the holiday. Except for...

"Where's Teddy?" Eileen asked suddenly.

Alf looked around. No sign of him in the great hall at all, not even at the Gryffindor table. "You don't think Uncle Harry came to pick him up early, do you? I know he said he might." Alf turned and looked at CJ.

"If Uncle Harry'd come, he'd have taken the lot of us back with him, probably." CJ mused. "Can't imagine he'd have come though without at least talking to us."

"Right." Alf worried, looking around the hallway. He spotted Professor Morgainne, and with determination he went up to talk to her.

Just before he got there, Professor Grainsworth arrived to chat with her. It took Alf about ten seconds to see that Morgainne was as angry as he'd seen her since back in first year, when she'd earned the decidedly unaffectionate nickname Morgainne the Gorgon.

"He is MY student. A Gryffindor. You do not have the authority to move one of my students without notifying me!" She blazed.

Alf expected them to cut the conversation short on his arrival, but they were both too tightly wound to acknowledge him. Grainsworth answered in a voice covered in icicles. "I am the acting Headmaster, Professor Morgainne, and I have the authority to release any student if I so chose to. It's not like I sent him to his death...I released him into the custody of his Grandmother."

"TEDDY?" Alf gaped, finally gaining the attention of the two professors. "Teddy's supposed to go with his Uncle Harry, not with his Gran!" He said quickly.

Grainsworth was looking coldly at him, with little change in his face. "Andromeda Tonks is listed on his school papers as his official guardian, with Harry Potter as adjunct. As far as I am concerned, that gives her the right of veto over any wish of Harry Potter."

Alf glared hard at him; it was Professor Morgainne who unwittingly prevented him from doing something that might get him expelled, by trying to get herself fired. She blazed around on Grainsworth in a manner that would have had Alf cowering two years previously.

"How dare you presume to act as Headmaster? Professor McGonagall has not resigned and will be back. And I can assure you, that when once she was called upon to act as Headmistress in absence of Albus Dumbledore, she never in any circumstance ran the school in a way contrary to school charter. And school charter requires that a head of house be notified of ANY emergency involving one of their students. This, as I understand it, is now the SECOND time you have failed to follow this guideline!" She jabbed her finger forcefully into the chest of the taller professor, actually moving him backwards a step.

"Careful, Morgainne." Grainsworth growled. "You and your husband do not have to be renewed next year, and as Professor McGonagall is unlikely to be returning, in my opinion, you are rendering your contracts dangerously unstable. I will not continue to employ someone who does not support me."

Morgainne's eyes were wide with fury. "Are you THREATENING me, Cotswold?" She asked, and then her voice became silky, and she stepped forward, making the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher actually cower. "Mathias and I have survived the Ugandan Wizarding uprising, if you think you can scare me, you are MOST mistaken."

Alf had been following this back and forth with growing alarm, not only at the situation regarding the headmistress, but because Teddy was getting lost in the argument. "Where is Teddy Lupin!?!?" He burst forth at once in a brief lull of conversation. "Where did his grandmother take him...surely you must know, Sir?" He gasped out, unable to wait any longer.

Grainsworth turned to him, embarrassed by having shown weakness, and reacted towards one he could intimidate more easily. "DETENTION, Mr. Weasley...this evening in my quarters!" He snarled. "For daring to question me, the acting headmaster."

Alf flushed, but continued on bravely. "It's Easter, Sir...I won't be here this evening."

"That's detention tomorrow evening as well...and I am removing your privileges to go home." Was the quick reply, stunning both Alf and Professor Morgainne.

Alf, not thinking, continued as the acting Headmaster walked away, "You can't DO that!"

"THAT'S three evenings in a row...and I can assure you I am no Hagrid when it comes to serving detention." The entire school was now focused on the group, and the hall had become so quiet you could hear a pin drop. "And if you fail to attend any detention, I will make move to have you EXPELLED. Am I quite clear on your situation?"

Professor Morgainne placed her hand over his mouth before he could expostulate further, and held it there as Grainsworth strode away, his robes billowing behind him. She spoke quickly to the others who now rushed forward to a fuming and frustrated Alf, for CJ, Eileen, Victoire and Liv were in shock as well.

"You lot." The potions professor spoke to them kindly. "Get yourselves on the Hogwarts express in an hour's time. Make certain that you let George know what has happened here." She looked down at Alf kindly. "You stay with me...we're going to tear up the common room and see if we can find any information on Teddy." She then turned to Neville Longbottom, who, as a loyal former student of Minerva McGonagall, was as angry as Angelina Morgainne. "Neville, I believe Harry Potter was planning on arriving this morning to pick up Teddy. Please explain the situation to him, and if possible prevent him from killing Grainsworth."

"Do I have to?" Neville gave her a grim smirk.

"Very well, you can let him maim him a little." Angelina nudged Alf. "Come...you will be safer with me than around that lunatic. And if I know George, there isn't much chance of your being left here to serve detention."

They walked away together, CJ giving Alf an encouraging nod. Alf kept quiet until they reached the quiet of Gryffindor tower. "I don't suppose that was my brightest moment."

"I'm not going to tell you it was the smartest thing I've seen done here at Hogwarts." Professor Morgainne did give him a quick wink. "I'm not going to tell you it was the dumbest thing, either."

"Can he expel me?" Alf asked, feeling faintly queasy.

"Technically yes...if he is in fact Acting Headmaster; that is, if the board doesn't think that she will be returning." A brief worry lit up the professor's face, that she quickly hid. "But any expulsion can be protested, and I would imagine your father would have quite a lot to say about it."

"Ugh." Alf groaned. He was fairly sure his Dad wouldn't be angry at him, but it still wasn't a whole conversation he looked forward to having.

"Never mind that now...we need to secure the location of Mr. Lupin. You know how his mind works...take a look around his dorm room...third floor of the tower...and tell me if you find anything. I'm going to go through the common room."

"Right." Alf gave himself a little shake, and set to work, glad he had something concrete to do, rather than sitting around worrying himself sick, about Teddy and now about himself.

WWWWWWW

The Hogwarts express was just minutes from leaving.

CJ had just seen Harry Potter arrive looking for Teddy; CJ had urged him to get up to the castle on the double and speak with Professor Longbottom, and Uncle Harry had gone on. But CJ still wasn't happy, not about Teddy and not about Alf.

"You're about to do something stupid, aren't you?" Eileen's eyes narrowed at him.

"Yep." CJ set his shoulders and pulled a spelled coin out of his pocket. Uncle George had given him this after the incident with his Dad showing up last October; Alf had one as well. He just suspected things could get ugly here, despite the well meaning intentions of Professors Morgainne and Longbottom. He ran the coin around his fingers, and then re-pocketed it, looking at Eileen. "I don't think I should wait the six hours that this trip is going to take, to notify Uncle George of what happened." He caught her eye. "Cover for me, Leenie?"

"You know I will." She gave him a tight smile. "And write and let me know what's happening as soon as you find out. I'm going to worry about the lot of you."

CJ just nodded, then stuck his head out the compartment door into the corridor. Without saying anything, Liv stuck her head around beside him, and tossed a dung bomb a few feet in the other direction; it went off with a loud bang and a puff of smoke; CJ flashed a smile at her, and then slipped off the train.

The platform was now deserted, and he ducked behind a cluster of shrubs, listening as the whistle blew and the train puffed off. He sighed hard; it was done now.

Taking the coin, he remembered George's instructions, and rubbed hit hard, clutching it to his chest, and he thought, with all of his might, on his guardian.

"_Teddy's missing, and Alf's in trouble with Grainsworth. We need you here, please? I just got off the express; I didn't want to leave Alf behind. Please, please, come...I'm by the train platform. Please, Uncle George...we need you."_

He felt a warmth light up the coin, and exhaled slowly. Looked like the message had gone somewhere, at least. Now he just had to stay out of sight until George found a way here.

WWWWWWW

"Gone?" Harry repeated slowly. "Excuse me, Neville; I am not understanding you. Could you please repeat that?"

Neville, having known Harry for a very long time, could see his friend's long fuse starting to ignite. "Grainsworth let Andromeda take him last night." Pause. "We don't know where."

"I see." A nerve twitched in Harry's jaw. "And did he not alert Professor Morgainne?" Angelina, he knew, had been brought in to the loop about their suspicions

"He did not. Angelina's up in the tower now...with Alf... trying to see if he left behind any clue as to where he'd be going."

"And where is this Grainsworth so I can have a word with...wait, what do you mean with Alf? I just saw all the other kids down at the platform waiting to board the Express." Harry came up short. "CJ told me I needed to talk to you, but that was all I had time for...why is Alf still here?" He had assumed that Alf must be already on the train when he'd spotted the other boy.

"Come, sit and talk with me, and I'll explain." Neville pointedly moved Harry as much in the opposite direction of Grainsworth as he could. "And let's wait until we've recovered Teddy before you go all Umbridge on our acting headmaster, Hm?"

Harry felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. What was Andromeda thinking, why was this Grainsowrth person causing such problems, and where, on earth, was his god-son? If anything bad happened to Teddy, he would _never_ forgive himself. He'd made a promise to Remus Lupin, when he'd agreed to be god-father, that he would take care of his son. Granted, neither he or Remus had expected things to turn out the way that they did, but they had, and Harry had embraced the small child that had been left behind.

He'd never expected for things to get so complicated. Of course, children often were complicated, and the challenge didn't make him love Teddy any less. But somehow he, of all people, should have been able to see this coming.

He just hoped that wherever Teddy was, he knew how desperately Harry was looking for him.

WWWWWWW

Teddy was hungry and frightened. He was chained, hand and foot, to a four-poster bed, and unable to move. He'd not been fed or given anything to drink since he'd been spirited out of the school last night, and now it was well past noon. It was also the day of the moon-change, which meant that as the day went on, he was in increasing pain; it felt like every piece of him was at war with another.

Dragasani had only looked in once. He'd been brisk and business like, explaining that Teddy would have to confront the very essence of his werewolf self in order to defeat it, and that food and water would only interfere with the attempt to bring forth the werewolf within. Teddy had pleaded for some ointment, balm, or other potion for his aching bones, but the doctor had looked down his nose at him and said that encouraging his human element would not be beneficial.

He tried to distract himself. Slowly, he played back old memories of his childhood.

_He was four years old_, and it was the first time somebody had taunted him for who his father was. He didn't understand what it meant, he just knew that he'd been at one of Aunt Gin's quidditch matches and had made a young friend, who had suddenly been whisked away by her mother. He remembered the older witch claiming he was a freak. The next thing he knew, Uncle Harry had, quietly, sent a gust of wind at the woman which had blown her robes up over her head, causing her to trip and fall face first into a puddle of mud.

"You're not a freak, Teddy." Harry had whispered to him, carrying him away, with a wink and a smirk. "And I won't let anyone tell you that you are, not ever. Never, never never!"

"Never!" Teddy had agreed with a smile, still not really sure what was happening.

_He was seven years old._ Andromeda had enrolled him for youth quidditch, but the coach didn't want to play him. The other kids wouldn't talk to him. He felt stupid and alone. But his Gran had threatened to hex the coach into the next millennium if he didn't get to play, so when the team was down by 100 points the man had put him in at seeker. He'd caught the snitch within three minutes, and Uncle Harry, along with a whole slew of Weasley cousins, had raised a huge ruckus of support. The coach, realizing who his god-father was, never failed to play him again.

_He was ten years old_, and Alf Weasley had come to stay. Poor Alf, who felt as out of place as Teddy often did. Kind Alf, who absolutely didn't see what was so funny about Teddy's Dad having been a werewolf. Loyal Alf, who stuck by him no matter what. Him and Alf, camping in the backyard, and Alf trusting him enough to tell him he wished George were his Dad officially, and not just his Uncle. Teddy, overjoyed at having a real friend, telling him back with great certainty that everything would work out.

Darker memories came then. How he treated Alf starting this summer. How he tried so hard to push him aside, pretend that he had no use for him. He'd done it wanting to keep someone who knew him so well from realizing the secrets that he kept. It had been foolish...clarity came to him as he lay on a bed waiting for the torture of the full moon. Alf would never have abandoned him, no matter how sick or tainted. He should have trusted that, instead of letting his Gran convince him he was, in contrast to what Uncle Harry had promised, a freak.

He felt unspeakably sad that he was probably not going to get a chance to tell Alf how sorry he was.

WWWWWWW

"Professor Morgainne!" Alf's footsteps thundered down the staircase; Angelina backed away from the floo, where she was trying to reconstruct the ashes to see if there were any sign of a burnt letter in there.

"Did you find something?" She asked, hopeful.

Alf's robes were askew and a large cobweb hung from his ear, his eyes alight and a bit of parchment in his hand. "Stuffed between his headboard and the window, crumpled up. Looks like a draft of a letter he meant to send to Uncle Harry, only he changed his mind."

Angelina took it from him, and smoothed the paper out. She read from it carefully.

"_Uncle Harry..._

_Gran said she would tell you, and maybe I shouldn't send this, because she insisted she would handle it. But I've kind of been sick...I can't tell you how, and she says there's this new Doctor in Romania that can help me..."_

The writing was shaky, as if Teddy'd been nervous when he wrote it, and a large ink blot ended the last fragment. "How did you think to look there?" She marveled.

Alf gave her a smug smile. "We shared a room for a bit when I first found the family." He said. "I noticed that whenever he got frustrated with something he was working on that was his hiding place of choice."

"Good show. Romania, eh? Your Uncle Charlie still with the dragons out there?" She asked.

"Yep." Alf's eyes lit up. "Think he knows this Doctor?"

"It's a fair bet. Come, let's go downstairs..."

Before they could move much farther, Harry Potter appeared in the common room. He caught their surprised looks, and spoke quickly. "Neville filled me in. He's downstairs looking to run interference with that Grainsworth idiot, but I just couldn't sit down there and wait."

Angelina handed over their prize, putting her hand on Alf's shoulder. "Grainsworth's idiocy paid some dividents...it was Alf who found this."

Harry's eyes scanned the letter, and a glimmer of hope shone in them. He fought down a smile as he glanced at Alf. "You are Ravenclaw through and through."

"Didn't take brains." Alf protested. "I just know Teddy."

Harry's grin came out in full force, and he turned and ran back to the stairs, heading to the great hall.

WWWWWWW

George found CJ at the platform, his face lined with worry. He'd managed to apparate to Hogsmeade, and well, if _he_ couldn't find a way to sneak on to the campus, nobody could. "Hey, kiddo...what's going on? What do you mean, you didn't want to leave Alf?" He kept his voice calm, though the turn it had given him when he'd gotten that message had nearly made his heart stop.

"Grainsworth rescinded his right to leave the grounds for vacation, and is threatening him with expulsion." CJ said. "Professor Morgainne is with him, but I just don't trust that man. And Teddy is missing." Clear eyes met his, looking grim.

George digested that quickly. He had a lot of questions, and still wasn't sure that what CJ had opted to do was the best choice, but now was not the time to get in to that. He put a hand on CJ's shoulder, and gave him a quick nod. "Let's get on to the castle then, shall we?"

There would be time to sort out the details later. Clearly, CJ believed Alf needed them, and that was what was important at the moment.

WWWWWWW

Harry came to an abrupt stop when he got to the great hall. There was the so-called acting Headmaster, Grainsworth, stading there with a wand pointed at Neville Longbottom. He heard Angelina curse under her breath behind him, and Alf inhaled sharply. Grainsworth looked them over.

"I do not remember having authorized any visitors here, Professor Morgainne." And his cold eyes slid over to Alf. "And you are bold indeed to stand so openly against me, Mr. Weasley. It seems the sorting hat was wrong, and you have the stupid bravery of Gryffindor instead of the intelligence of Ravenclaw."

Harry folded the sheet of paper in front of him, tucking it into a pocket, and stepped between Graisnworth and Alfred. He had quite a lot he wished to say, but decided against engaging in open warfare. For now, that is. "Mr. Weasley was assisting me with my god-son's belongings at my request, Professor." He kept his voice calm. "You can hardly fault him for that."

"Can I not?" Grainsworth smirked. "He will be lucky if he sees the outside of a classroom for the rest of the term, Mr. Potter. I am no Minerva McGonagall, and I will not coddle students who cannot handle following basic rules."

"Basic rules." Harry felt Alf fuming behind him, and reached back to squeeze his hand, hoping that would keep him quiet. "You mean like the basic rules of not allowing a student to be spirited off the campus without permission of their guardian?"

Grainsworth glared, lowering his wand from Neville but still holding it steady and prepared. "As the acting Headmaster, I have the discretion to interpret the rules. Mrs. Tonks is Mr. Lupin's primary guardian, and as such I felt that to have the permission of ONE guardian was enough. Let us be honest, Mr. Potter, if you had arrived first, I would have had no hesitation in allowing you to remove him from campus."

Harry paused at that…it was, sadly, a valid point. "Did not Mr. Lupin explain that he was to depart with me?" He hesitated to ask the question.

Grainsworth brushed an imaginary bit of lint off of his sleeve, looking like he was quite bored with the situation. "He did not. He did seem startled that she was there EARLY, but it is not as if he protested his departure violently. I did sense that he would have rather'd had a moment to say goodbye to his friends, but no more than that." He leveled his gaze at Harry. "Done is done, however. Pursue Mr. Lupin if you wish, but if you wish to complain about his treatment, complain to his grandmother, not to me." The Professor looked then at Alf, who was rather dejectedly peering around Harry. "As for you, young man, I suggest you head towards my office, where you can get started on the thousand lines I have ready for you. For _today's_ detention."

"That is rather excessive, is it not?" Angelina protested.

"Does expulsion sound better?" Grainsworth's eyes narrowed. "And I have read your files Professor Morgainne. You, of all teachers, should not complain about giving _lines_." Angelina naturally was rendered silent at the reminder of her unfortunate history, and Grainsworth took the opportunity to dig his nails in to Alf's shoulder hard. "And be advised, young man, you will be spending the break in Slytherin Tower. Where I can keep an eye on you."

Harry felt sick. He couldn't leave Alf behind with this man; he knew once George was alerted to the situation that he'd intervene in any way he could, but in the meantime who knew he might be subject to. On the other hand, the longer Andromeda kept Teddy hidden from him, the more dangerous it was…particularly because the full moon was tonight. And from the way things were shaping up, it seemed unlikely that Angelina and Neville would be able to do much on Alf's behalf.

"Go, Uncle Harry." Alf said, sounding resigned to his fate. Harry glanced down at him in concern. "GO!" Alf repeated. "Teddy is in danger, and he is alone. I am facing writer's cramp. I will be fine."

Grainsworth snorted. "Writer's cramp. If you can manage to keep your tongue to keep from earning further punishment."

"Alf, I can't…" Harry began.

"GO." Alf said. "I will be fine."

A voice, even, firm, and unyielding spoke from the doorway. "He is correct. As he usually is. He will be fine." George walked in to the great hall, his wand firmly in hand, though not YET pointed at the acting headmaster. "And you need to go…to wherever it is that you are going to find Teddy."

Harry looked down to Alf, glad to see color coming back up in his face. "I knew you'd come, George." Harry said, in relief. "But how on earth did you get here so quickly?"

George raised an eyebrow. "Question me on how I sneak in to Hogwarts, Harry? Surely you jest." CJ suddenly looked in to the hall from the entranceway, and Harry realized that the other boy must have found a way to alert Alf's dad. "Now off with you…might want to roust up Bill, though; full moon tonight."

"Good idea." Harry gave Alf a grateful smile, and then clasped the shoulders of first Angelina then Neville, before he turned to run out the doorways towards open ground and the apparition boundaries.

"Mr. Diggory." Grainsworth noticed the other young man hanging back. "I see you've changed your mind about serving detention with your friend?"

George looked pointedly at Alf. "You head on out to the front lawns with CJ." He said, with emphasis. "I am going to have a word with the Professor here."

"I didn't do anything!" Alf said at once, suddenly feeling the need to explain himself.

"Go, Alf." George simply replied. "I will handle this."

Alf went over to meet CJ, looking back once to see Professor Grainsworth so steaming mad he was afraid his head would blow off, and he sighed. Well, whatever happened, happened…if he had to stay the break here, it was worth it, if Teddy was okay. He looked curiously at CJ. "Why did you come back?" He asked.

"You wouldn't have left me." CJ said. "And Uncle George needed to know what was going on."

They walked together towards the grounds, now quiet and nearly deserted, to wait for George to work things out.


	12. Ch 12 Like father, like sons

Alf and CJ were sprawled together on a bench, looking over towards the building warily. Alf broke the silence. "You called him with your coin?"

"Yep." CJ replied.

"It wasn't really an emergency." He pointed out.

CJ thought about that for a second. "Well…I figured when we pulled in to London, and I told him why you weren't there, he'd be going nuts and storm up here anyway to confront Grainsworth." CJ gave a little shrug. "Didn't see much point in waiting for hours to reach that point." He glanced over at Alf. "Grainsworth is my head of house, you know. I've never known him to be cruel, but I've always known him to be ambitious. He _seems_ to have gotten what he's always wanted, if it's true that McGonagall doesn't come back. With ultimate power, I was not at all comfortable leaving you in his control."

"Right." Alf huffed lightly. "Is he mad?"

"Grainsworth? Quite probably, in both senses of the word." CJ gave a little smirk over at Alf with a raised eyebrow. "Or did you mean George?"

"Idiot." Alf grumbled back at him.

CJ took pity and actually answered. "He didn't seem mad. He might have been a tad annoyed at me at first, because he thought I might have been a little precipitous. But I'm pretty sure from what we just saw that he's figured out what we were up against."

Alf looked warily at the building. "Yeah, but he wasn't here to see how everything went down. I don't know what Grainsworth is telling him."

That got him a bit of a shove in return. "Do you really think your Dad would believe something about you that _that_ man told him?"

Alf had to admit that it did seem ridiculous. But he just wished he knew WHAT was going on in that room…it had been what, a full twenty minutes at least since they'd left the Great Hall! He'd give anything to see his father just walking out of there and telling them they could go home.

There was a bang at the main entry, and George came out just as Alf wished, only with eyes blazing and hair flying out behind him, still in his work robes; his arms were folded and a tight grip on his wand. Voices could be heard in the distance behind him. "Boys." He said, in a very still, quiet and dangerous tone. "We'll be going home now. We'll head in to Hogsmeade and floo from the store branch there."

Alf and CJ rose quickly, eyes wide. Alf recognized just how angry George was; the last time he'd seen him in this quiet blaze was in the first few seconds after he'd nearly blown the store up. Wisely, neither Alf or CJ said a word, they just came rather meekly up to George and prepared to follow him towards the pathway to the village.

"WEASLEY!" Grainsworth's voice bellowed after them just as they got to the gates. George turned, stepping just in front of the two boys as if to protect them.

Alf saw Grainsworth looking furious, his face red; his thinning hair askew and absolutely trembling in his rage. "You are an ABOMINATION, Weasley!" Grainsworth stood before them, his robes rather mussed and his lower lip quivering in indignation. "You and your lousy progeny…disrespectful, arrogant. Those boys will NEVER set foot in this school again!"

"I can assure you." George said, in his frostiest voice. "If you are the headmaster, I quite agree…my sons will not be returning to your care. But I do not expect you to be retaining control of this place. You've crossed me, and you've crossed Harry Potter. At the risk of sounding like Lucious Malfoy, do not count on being in the position you are in by the start of next term."

Alf gave CJ a glance of shock, only to find that CJ had somehow gone in to some sort of trance, staring at George with wide eyes and not, apparently, noticing anything else.

Grainsworth gave him a snarl. "Do NOT underestimate me, Weasley. Although perhaps I should encourage you to do so. You've always had an overly exaggerated opinion of yourself, from all that I've heard. Hero of Hogwarts, my arse, you and your dead brother. All those pathetic pranks. Thought you were so smart and cool. What did it get you, but your brother killed in the end, and you basking in the pity you get from his loss."

Grainsworth seemed to gain speed the more he said. "Your boys are no better. Useless and arrogant, like you and your brother by all I've heard. They'll come to the same end, no doubt. And you will continue to act all noble, milking events ten years past for your own use. But in the end you were no better than a coward, abandoning your brother to his death so you could live…"

The speech came abruptly to an end as two curses hit the acting Headmaster at once, and with full force: He was overcome with warts and boils, courtesy of CJ, and began turning a variety of shades of colors in a row, from puce to teal to violet, to a rainbow moiré pattern, courtesy of Alf.

"BOYS!" George exclaimed, eyes wide. "No, no! What are you THINKING!"

"Stupefy!" Neville Longbottom called out, stunning the headmaster; he had followed after Grainsworth and was more than prepared. Angelina Morgainne was behind him.

George was rubbing his head vigorously, as if he had a migraine. "Neville…"

"I'll take care of it, George." Neville said, soothingly. "And we'll figure out what's going on with McGonagall. Get the boys on home, and I'll give you a call when I know what's happening."

"Right." George looked over at the boys, frowning. "While I appreciate your loyalty…do you have any idea how much WORSE you just made the situation?"

Alf and CJ looked at each other; Alf suspected that CJ wasn't feeling any more repentant than he was. Nobody was going to talk to his dad like that. They both turned their eyes back to George, respectful but not at all contrite. "Sorry." Alf said, very simply.

George was not quite done yet. "This is not going to help your case against expulsion, you do realize? He HADN'T had a good reason to do anything to you, and I had all the ammunition I needed to GET YOU OUT OF THIS with the Board. Now you've BOTH thrown serious hexes at the _acting headmaster_, and all you can say is SORRY?!?!" His voice was getting progressively louder; Alf had never quite seen him yell like that, even as he began to wave his arms rather wildly.

CJ found his voice first. "I thought you said we weren't coming back here?"

George gave an exasperated sigh. "Not with him as headmaster, CJ…but do you seriously think that Minerva McGonagall is going to be kept away from the school for much longer? Once she was back she would have immediately seen Grainsworth's idiocy. NOW…" George took a deep breath and repeated himself. "YOU THREW JINXES AT A MAN WHO WILL PROBABLY STILL BE YOUR PROFESSOR FOR THE REST OF THE TERM!"

Erp. When you thought about it in those terms, not good, Alf realized. But still…

Angelina Morgainne was glaring at George now. "Oh, for heaven's sake…don't you think given everything that happened you're blowing things out of proportion? Not to mention ira tad silly, coming from _you_!"

That brought George up short, and he turned on her. "I beg your PARDON?"

Angelina's eyes narrowed just a bit. "Considering that about…oh, eight minutes ago…you just nailed Grainsworth with the Weasley trademark Bat Bogey curse that I just now cleared up!"

Alf fought hard to keep from grinning, figuring that his life might depend on it.

"I AM AN ADULT!" George pointed out, waving an arm at the prone and stupefied figure of Cotswold Grainsworth. "HE is not my headmaster!"

"Umbridge?" Angelina asked, both eyebrows raised.

Alf was now chewing almost painfully on the sides of his mouth. He didn't _dare_ look at CJ.

"Entirely different set of circumstances…we were _liberating_ the school!" George tried to get the upper hand back, his face flushed; he was now becoming flustered.

"Right. It was _you_, was it not, who cursed Draco Malfoy and his friends pretty soundly for insulting your parents and got yourself a lifetime ban from Quidditch?" She added.

"Only because you were holding back Fred." He crossed his arms and tried to give her his most withering glare.

"You also once left a dung-bomb under Minister Fudge's car for insulting your Mum." She said, with an almost triumphant smirk. "My point is, it's rather thick for you to be yelling at the boys for cursing Grainsworth in defense of _you_!"

George was now beet red and standing toe to toe with her. "I swear, Angelina, some day you and Matthias are going to have kids, and the stories I am going to dredge up..."

"Right." Neville cut in quickly. "I think what Angelina is trying to say that we'll take care of it. I believe her husband is handy with a memory charm. Given what's happened with Teddy and all the other nonsense today, I think that we can safely say that several people were pushed beyond what would be their normal tolerance levels."

George deflated, closed his eyes, and sighed. "Teddy. Right. We've got bigger problems now." He looked down at Grainsworth with disgust. "I'll leave him in your hands."

Angelina glanced around George to give both boys a discrete wink; George whirled around but Alf and CJ were both managing to keep straight, slightly abashed faces.

"Oh, come _on_!" He groaned. "Michelle is going to send out an entire army if we don't get you home soon." He shooed both boys forward on the path, and they made their way towards the village, being careful to avoid looking at each other, or back at George. Until he suddenly put one hand on each of the boys' shoulders, and then pulled them both close to him in a hug, bending down just slightly to kiss each of them on the top of their heads.

Alf sighed, hugging George back; CJ doing the same, and thus linked together they continued to make their way home.

WWWWWWW

Harry and Bill were in Charlie's apartment in Bucharest, while Charlie rummaged through a bunch of wizarding directories from his desk.

At least, Harry supposed it was a desk under there somewhere. It could have been a giant Balkan sloth for all he knew.

Bill was looking around with a decided twinkle in his eye, enjoying a few seconds of levity in the midst of the impending crisis. "I'd like some good firewhiskey for Christmas, Charlie." He said, peeking into the sink and then backing away with a green face.

"Come again?" Charlie made an 'aha' face as he found what he was looking for, and tossed a heavy book towards Harry.

"Firewhiskey. And dragon-hyde boots like George's." Bill dusted his hands fastidiously. "Or else I'm going to tell Mum exactly what sort of condition your apartment is in!"

"Please do. She'd probably come out to clean!" Charlie grinned widely; Bill had never quite been able to get the upper hand with him, no matter how much he tried.

Harry was flipping determinedly through the booklet, which was an English language Romanian services directory.

"You've worn out the restaurant section, I see." Bill noted, looking over Harry's shoulder as he looked for medical facilities.

"Do I look like George? Damn straight I eat out a lot." Charlie retorted.

"Romanian General Hospital of Magical Maladies…" Harry read out loud.

"No different than St. Mungo's. Depressingly orthodox." Charlie replied.

"…Critical Injury Unit of Buchararest…"

"Hanldes injuries from dragons and other creatures.. Really quite efficient…and some lovely nurses on duty." He caught Bill's eye. "Now THAT Mum doesn't need to know."

"…the Dragasani Institute of Non-Human disorders…" Harry paused, and looked up at Charlie.

"That's a possibility!" Charlie leaned forward. "Dragasani's considered a bit of a quack by serious doctors. He's got a radio show out here where he promises to cure vampires, veelas, and hags."

"VEELAS?" Bill growled. "What is bloody wrong with veelas? And how do you cure one?"

Charlie shrugged. "He works with humans of mixed blood. His own father was rumored to be a vampire…"

"Is that even possible?" Harry asked.

"Who knows? All I know is, he says that if there are wizards out there who want their evil blood stamped out, he has devised aversion therapy cures to overcome your own bloodlines." Charlie looked rather ill. "He got into trouble. A kid who was part giant died in his care…he apparently kept trying to instigate the giant within, by some sort of torture."

Harry felt his knees buckle, and Bill held him up. "Easy, Harry." Bill calmed him.

"That's it. That's GOT to be it." He looked around helplessly. "But Andromeda _loves_ Teddy. I don't understand why she would do this!"

"Figure that out later. Let's get hold of him first. You have the cloak?" Bill asked.

Harry nodded. Funny…he hadn't used the thing since he defeated Voldemort, and now it had been put to use twice in the past two months.

Charlie threw his own robes on. "I'm going with you." He announced, clearly not taking no for an answer. "If you get into any scrapes, you need somebody who can speak the language."

Scrapes. Funny. Harry had thought those days were long behind him. But he looked back at a worried Bill and a determined Charlie, and felt again a sense of thankfulness that he had crossed paths with the Weasley family. They were as good as his own.

"Let's go get him." Harry said quietly. And the three of them headed off into the rapidly falling dusk.

WWWWWWW

What could almost pass for a peaceful evening was just settling in at Godric's Hollow. They were all waiting anxiously for word from Harry, but otherwise were close to normal. George had told Michelle all the details of the afternoon, opting to leave out the fact that the boys had jinxed Grainsworth. Probably a good idea; she was annoyed enough at him for "letting a man like that get to him!" when he rather sheepishly explained his bat-bogey hex.

However, she was more worried about Minerva McGonagall, and was resolving to hunt her out to see exactly what her illness was, announcing quite seriously that she could not know what Graisnworth was up to.

In any event, as dinner was being cleared and Alf was helping Michelle with the baby, CJ asked to be excused and had disappeared up to his room. George took a glance at Alf, who just shrugged; they all knew that CJ had been exceptionally quiet and rather off since they'd made it back to the house. He took a deep breath, guessing that his burst of anxious anger this afternoon had frightened CJ more than the boy would ever admit to. Though it had been a while since they'd had a situation like this come up.

"Going upstairs for a bit, love." He said to Michelle, leaning around to kiss her nose. She nodded in understanding, and he went to find CJ.

WWWWWWW

CJ was curled up on his bed, staring out the window, gently tossing something through his hands. George came over and sat on the bed next to him. "Is that the trick snitch I gave you the first time I met you?" He asked in surprise. That was the sort of Wheezes trinket that kids usually managed to lose within a week or two.

"Yeah." He said quietly, watching it as it rolled over his fingers. "Lost a bit of the charm now, but still…it's important to me."

"I'm not angry with you, you know." George decided to go right for the direct tack.

"I know." CJ said in response, still not looking at him.

George wasn't sure that he DID know. "I was afraid at first that you might have called me needlessly, but you didn't; it was important that I be there to take care of you and Alf. And then later I was annoyed at the curses you threw, because I hoped for you both to have more self restraint to that. But I can't get as angry as I ought to, considering that I know full well I would have done the same thing." George gave a wry smirk. "Hell, I did do the same thing, and I certainly ought to know better."

"I know." CJ said once more. "I do know you're not angry." He repeated.

"So…are you worried about Teddy?" George asked, now thoroughly confused.

CJ gave a deep sigh. "No. I mean, yeah I am worried about him, but that's not why I'm so…I guess…" CJ got a little flustered, and with effort put the tiny snitch down on the window sill. "When you left the great hall today, you said that if Grainsworth were headmaster, that your sons would not be returning."

"And I meant it." George said promptly. "Still do. If that ape is in charge of the school come the end of the break, you and Alf are not going back. I know you don't want to have to leave school, but I'd rather teach you at home then have you there with that man having control over you." He was surprised that the sentiment would have bothered CJ.

CJ was looking at him very closely. Without blinking, he explained himself further. "You called me your son."

Oh.

OH!

But surely CJ knew?

"Yes. I did." George said softly. "Surely that didn't bother you? I mean, I know you have a father, somewhere out there in his bloated glory, but I wouldn't have expected you to be so attached to him."

CJ gave a strangled laugh that might have been part sob. He reached a hand down to grab his pillow, and he hugged it close to him. "I'm not. It's just…I can't believe you…I mean, you have enough problems."

George reached over and stroked CJ's head gently. "This may come as a bit of a shock, especially considering today, but I've never considered you, nor Alf, nor Freddo now, as problems." He inhaled deeply and decided to explain something he'd never planned on. "I asked to adopt you last October, after your old man showed up at the school. And was turned down because of whatever stupid use they're making of him at the ministry. But I have been promised that it will be reconsidered in the future." George reached out to touch CJ's chin and made him look at him. "But whether I get a piece of formal paperwork or not is immaterial. Whether you call me Dad, or Uncle George, or Hey You, is immaterial; I love you, as I love Alf. And so does Michelle. We are a family. That makes you my son."

CJ wiped at his eyes abruptly, and George draped an arm over his shoulders gently, letting him compose himself.

"I'm sorry I let you down today." He swallowed hard. "I do know that cursing Grainsworth was stupid."

"You did not let me down." George said firmly. "We all had our nerves pushed to the breaking point. No, you shouldn't have done it, but then neither should I, and we all three of us did. We love each other, and we acted in anger to defend people we loved." He roughed CJ's hair and got up to leave. "Nicely done jinx, by the way. Furnunculous?" He asked.

CJ managed to give him a smile. "Variation of, that went around Slytherin last year. Dermaschlosis. Essentially causes you to erupt in three different skin disorders simultaneously."

"Nice." George nodded. "I'm going to check in with Ginny in a bit…don't skulk about up here alone, now…come down soon."

"I will." CJ promised, and George felt confident enough to leave him behind.

WWWWWWW

Michelle was going over the last of the dinner dishes by hand. Wand work was faster, but sometimes tiring, and she had always enjoyed the muggle method of cleaning dishes…it sometimes seemed almost therapeutic. Tonight it was enabling her to spend a few minutes with Alf; Freddo had nodded off in his swing, and her young step-son had joined her without words, picking up a dish towel. Well, he too was familiar with muggle work, and perhaps had the same feelings. Besides, he couldn't use magic to help outside of school.

"I need to tell you something." Alf said, looking over at her from the side. "Dad didn't let on everything that happened back at school."

"I know." She replied. Seeing his surprise, she shrugged. "I could tell he was holding something back towards the end."

"Right." Alf set his shoulders. "CJ and I both tossed curses at Grainsworth." He said quickly. "The man had come charging out after us, and was saying horrible things about Dad."

"Ugh." Cursing a headmaster; not a good thing, not by any stretch of the imagination. "I'm guessing your Dad wasn't real happy about that."

"No, he was pretty peeved." Alf grimaced. "Until Professor Morgainne decided to bring up some of his own…intemperate behavior from his past."

Michelle fought back a smile. "I actually would have liked to have seen that. I bet George got all flustered and tried to bluster his way through the accusations."

"Pretty much." Alf let himself smile, glad she was being reasonably sensible. "And then he calmed down and things got normal." Alf paused. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you, actually. He usually tells you everything."

"Well, from what I hear Arthur used to run a lot of interference for the boys with Molly…she was generally far more likely to go off the deep end when they did something stupid. Imagine he's just reverting to what he knows."

That Alf could see. He considered that if he got caught doing something stupid, how Gramps was likely to react…a half hour lecture…versus Gram…which would probably involve having your ear pulled half off while she smacked you about the head shrieking in maternal terror. No contest there. "So you're not going to tug my ear off, then?"

"Not this time…you look enough like George as it is." She smirked a little. "What curse, may I ask?"

"Chameleosa." Alf said. "CJ used Dermaschlosis."

"Oooh. A warty, boil ridden, psoriasis attack in Technicolor. Nice." She quipped, putting away the last dish. "Flitwick must be beside himself with pride."

Alf laughed lightly, and then reached over to pick Freddo out of the swing; the baby nuzzled against him. "Want me to take him upstairs?"

"Thank you, yes." She was watching him curiously. "Why _did_ you tell me, Alf, instead of letting your Dad cover for you?"

"You're still a teacher, even if not active. And you're friendly with Professor Morgainne. She's not likely to not tell you." He said, quite reasonably.

"Ravenclaw." George said as he showed himself in the kitchen, having actually heard a good chunk of the conversation. He looked sheepishly at Michelle, who had one eyebrow raised. "And my Mum would have absolutely gone nutters if Dad came home and told her that we'd jinxed Dumbledore."

"If I moved to pull _your_ ear off, would that make you feel better?" She teased, and George backed away with a short laugh, as Alf decided to make his way up the stairs and give them a few moments alone.

WWWWWWW

Teddy had started to cry. Sort of. Only, as he was severely dehydrated, tears were in short supply. His mouth was parched, and as groans and gasping sobs had escaped from him, his tongue had become heavy, almost choking. He strained once more against the shackles, and got rewarded with a horrible shock.

Dragasani had attached him to some strange looking apparatus, one that he said he had studied in the muggle world. There were patches all over his body, and whenever he did something like strain too hard, or even arch his back to stretch, there would be a terrible jolt of pain that seemed to torment his very fiber from his toenails to his teeth. If this is what muggle treatments were like, then he prayed they didn't often get sick.

He would have been ashamed to be sniveling like a child, but the moment of shame had passed some hours ago. As evening approached, and the moon with it, he was acutely aware of every nerve in his body; they were all throbbing even without help of the torture device he was strapped to.

He winced as his knee gave a particularly violent throb, and he lurched with the pain, which set the machine off. A jolt of pure agony (surely cruciatus couldn't be worse than THIS?) coursed through him; making him scream. When it was over, he sank back against the bed, and this time he outright sobbed.

"You will learn, Mr. Lupin." The Doctor scolded him. "The pain is from your inner werewolf. The shocks you are receiving will teach your body not to give in to it."

_Or kill me._ Teddy felt almost like he was choking as his nose ran and he tried to control the shaking sobs that seemed to force their way out of him. It was not quite dark yet, and it was going to get worse before it got better. But how was he supposed to tell his body not to feel pain? He wasn't exactly embracing the suffering.

As if he sensed Teddy arguing with him, Dragasani rose and came over towards the machine. "Perhaps I need to increase the voltage?"

_No, no…oh, no, please no, I can't take it, I can't…Please, no more…please…_

"Get away from my godson, you bloody animal!" A voice screeched from the doorway.

Great, he was hallucinating now. Well, maybe in his hallucinations he wouldn't be able to feel the pain.

A new jolt shot through him, and he screamed, arching upward and nearly dislocating his shoulder as he wrenched about violently. So much for that idea.

"Hell, Harry…what IS that thing?" A voice…Bill Weasley?...came to Teddy's ears.

Teddy managed to raise his head for just one second. Funny, it almost seemed like Uncle Harry really was here. Maybe it was James Potter. Maybe he'd died and this was heaven.

Nah...he wasn't that lucky.

He sank back on to the pillow, and felt a semi-darkness surround him.

WWWWWWW

Harry and Dragasani had their wands drawn and faced each other, each in a complete rage. Bill was behind him, looking in shock at what had become of little Teddy Lupin, clearly suffering from the same Lycanthropic syndrome he'd once had, only without proper treatment for far too many months. He wanted to rush forward, but knew they ought to wait for Charlie, who was downstairs confounding a nurse. With Charlie, he liked their odds much better, especially with poor Teddy attached to some horrible muggle torture device.

Dragasani looked Harry up and down. "The boy is here with the permission of his guardian." He said, quickly. "I am not doing anything which she has not tacitly approved of."

"Right." Harry said, his blood pressure rising at the thought. "Just out of curiosity, where is Andromeda Tonks?"

"Away." Dragasani admitted. "I find that parents are not often able to stomach the necessary treatment to bring the demons out of their young ones."

"I take some comfort in thinking that his Grandmother might not have been fully aware of what your treatment entailed. But only some." Harry growled. "Now back away from my godson, because I have equal guardianship of the boy, and I do NOT approve of this, not one bit."

Dragassani held up a button that was attached by wire to the contraption behind him. "One more move, Sir, and I will give the boy a double dose. This unit, of my own invention, is impossible for a mere neophyte wizard to understand. There is no way you could disable it."

Harry looked at him incredulously. It was an electrotherapy shock machine. And muggles had invented it years ago in a vain attempt to cure mental illness. He remembered seeing a documentary on it on the telly one summer at Privet drive. He'd shuddered because Uncle Vernon had threatened to get himself one of those things in order to cure Harry.

As for not knowing how to disable it, well. A memory came back to Harry, of a jinx taught to him ironically by Remus Lupin, and he gave Dragasani a cold smile.

"Waddiwasi!" Harry called.

Dragasani pressed at the button simultaneously, but fruitlessly, as the electrical plug had jolted out of the wall at Harry's spell, and then lodged itself down the doctor's throat.

Charlie arrived upstairs just in time to catch it. He had his wand out, and quickly stupefied the quack medico. "I'll keep watch on this blighter."

Harry and Bill rushed forward together; Harry biting back a cry as he got a good look at Teddy for the first time; Bill working furiously to undo the shackles.

"Teddy, oh, Teddy!" He moaned out. "Look at you! Is this what you've been going though, underneath all those fancy changes?" He blinked away tears. "God, I've been blind!" He leaned down to scoop up the boy into a hug,; h is weight couldn't have been more than 130 pounds despite his height.

Teddy's eyes flitted open as Harry held him. The boy seemed to hesitate for a second, as if convincing himself that Harry really was there. He stiffly raised his now freed hand to touch his godfather's face, to feel his tears. And a funny shudder went through Teddy. "You're really here." He mumbled thickly. "How'd you find me?"

"I will always find you if you need me, Teddy." Harry promised. "I will never let you be taken away from me again." The boy's eyes closed, and he fell into an uneasy sleep in Harry's arms.

Bill had procured water, and handed it over to Harry insistently. "He's dehydrated. Which is particularly bad for osteolycanthrosis."

"Huh?" Harry looked over at Bill in confusion.

"When I got bitten, when the moon hit it felt like my joints were fighting each other to pull from my body. Your magical core senses the traces of the werewolf mutation, but only traces; it's trying to enact a change that by body you are not having. So your body is at war with itself, in a way." He grabbed a blanket and helped Harry wrap him. "He needs medicines and some of Fleur's special liniment. But it takes hours to be fully effective, " Bill looked at his watch and made a sick face. "Full darkness is only in about half an hour, Harry. And he's so weak…"

"Bill…what are you saying?" Harry gaped up at him.

"Harry, this has been going on without treatment for at least a year, from what the kids surmised." Bill's eyes were wide and pained. "Each attack would have been worse than the last. He's in such bad shape, Harry, I just don't know how he's going to come through it."

Harry shook his head hard. NO, he hadn't come this far to lose Teddy now. He COULDN'T.

"Ruddy hell." Charlie got their attention. "Apparate him back to England. Now. It's a two hour time difference."

Two hours. Was it enough? Harry looked at Bill, and Bill nodded at him…it would help. He rose quickly, Teddy limp in his arms, and Bill came up aside him. "What about Andromeda?" He asked.

Harry snorted. "Like I should care." He said. Then he gave a little shrug. "Look, _I'm _not hiding him. She knows where I live. If she's got the courage, she can find him."

He hoped she did. Because when she did, there was quite a lot he intended to say to her!


	13. Ch 13 Lullaby

George had popped over to see Ginny just after 7pm. His sister's face was drawn and worried; but he'd have known her mindset without seeing her: he could hear, as he approached her kitchen, that her voice was considerably more peevish with the kids than normal. She sounded brittle, like one wrong move would set her right over the edge.

She sounded remarkably like Mum did, when she'd been worried about one of them growing up.

"Oh, for the love of…James, go up to your room right now, and take Albus with you…I can't bear another word from one of you!" She snapped at once.

George peaked his head around the door frame, spotted a pale and serious looking James taking Albus by the hand without argument, and saw Lily sucking on her two fingers, as she was wont to do, studying her mother with wide eyes.

"Allo, kids." George said, keeping his voice light. Ginny jumped upright, knocking over a glass of milk as she did so. She closed her eyes tight, and then turned and without another word went into the pantry.

"Mum's worried about Teddy." James said, by way of explanation. "And I think we're driving her batty."

"So I gathered." George reached down and picked up Lily, who gave him a tight hug. He then put her down on the floor, so she could walk. "Tell you what, James, take Lily here, and you and Albus head over to our house. You can have a nice little sleep over there. I'm sure Miss Shell won't mind, and Alf and CJ will be thrilled. Go on…" He nudged James gently.

The oldest boy hesitated just a second. "Will somebody make sure to tell us if Teddy's' okay?" He asked, timidly.

"Depend on it. Even if I have to wake you up." He promised quite seriously.

James nodded then, put his hand out to help Lily, and Albus took her other hand on the far side. He watched the three of them head out the door, and then went in to find his sister.

She was leaning against the sink, crying quietly. She dried her eyes quickly and looked up at him, as if she hadn't a care in the world, and George tilted his head half to the side with a half smile, before he held his arms out to her.

She rushed into the hug with a sob, her arms around his neck and bawling like she'd done when she was seven years old and he had found her just after her cat had died. He squeezed her hard, resting his chin on her head. Poor Ginny, so much stronger than anybody who didn't know her would expect her to be, and so much more fragile than those who did know her ever understood.

Well, maybe fragile wasn't the right word. Still, folks did just tend to assume that Ginny would be the rock that held the family together, not unlike mum. And it wasn't really fair. She deserved to be able to break down sometimes too.

"He'll be okay, Gin." George soothed. "Bill's with Harry, and they'll get hold of Charlie. They'll bring him home."

She hiccupped once. "Oh, George." She wiped at her nose with the towel. "The kids must hate me"

"The kids understand you, silly woman." He teased. "And I've sent them over to our house. Alf and CJ will keep them entertained. Because I'm sure that when Harry gets back he's going to need a hand, eh?"

"Right." She pulled herself together, and George handed her a dish towel so she could dry off. "Right, I can't let Teddy see me freak out…over whatever. I'm sure he's had quite enough drama already." She set her shoulders, and looked at him, her face melting. "Thanks, George."

"Hey…it's what we do." He said, with a shrug. "Just let me know at once, even if you have to send an owl fifty feet to do it, what's going on."

There was a sudden burst of noise at the back door, and they turned back into the kitchen, Ginny's face going pale again. "Harry? Harry, is that you?"

Harry burst in at once, carrying Teddy rather awkwardly; George moved forward to help. "Get Mum, Gin. Bill's already gone for Fleur. And the kids…they should probably not be around right now."

"Already taken care of." George said, as he and Harry moved Teddy to the sofa. "They're at my place….oof." George sighed as they laid Teddy out, and then gasped. "Bloody hell, Harry!"

"No metamorphagy now." Harry's voice sounded brittle. "Underneath all that Hollywood exterior…this is what he's been all year."

Damn.

"Can I do anything?" George asked, feeling rather helpless.

"Keep Andromeda Tonks away from me, if she should show up." Harry said. "I've managed to avoid Azkaban so far, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Right." George paused, and then took his wand out; with all his concentration, he transfigured the sofa into a twin bed. "More comfortable that way, still easily accessible to the floo." He explained. It seemed like so very little, but it was what he could do. "Harry, is he a werewolf?"

"Bill doesn't think so." Harry said. "He thinks it's a syndrome, from having some of the biological traits, but not a full blown case.." Harry trembled. "And he says it should have been treated for the past year."

Well, that explained why Andromeda had a price on her head.

"If there's anything you need…" George said quietly.

"I know." Harry gave him a thin smile. "Alf and CJ okay? You get them away from the school?"

"Ha." George shook his head lightly. "I'll give you that whole story another day. But yes, they're home."

"Good." Bill appeared with Fleur suddenly, bags of ointment and potions being carried between them. Victoire and Ricky were with them as well. Fleur looked apologetically at Harry.

"I could not leave 'zem alone in zee cottage." She explained.

George grinned at Ricky, and tried to block the view from a clearly frightened Victoire. "Come on, kids…apparently I'm hosting a great sleep over tonight. And Ricky, I'm begging you…remember our conversation about channeling your talents into appropriate situations? Tonight would not be one of them."

"Got it, Uncle George." Ricky looked over at Victoire, and suddenly he became very serious, a rarity for him. He tugged her braid gently, and handed her a tissue, which she took.

Fleur was already by Teddy's side, ministering to him. Carefully George steered Bill's kids away from the sight. "Let's get going, eh?"

WWWWWWW

Two hours later, Michelle was sitting on the sofa in the living room, as George came downstairs from having tucked in Lily and Albus in CJ's room; CJ, Alf, Victoire, Ricky and James were camping in Alf's room. He gave her a rather sheepish look, and she just slid over, patting the seat beside her.

"You are remarkable." He said, leaning against her, his head on her shoulder.

"You wouldn't be the man I fell in love with if, somehow in this situation, we hadn't ended up with eight kids in the house." She replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "Besides, you're the one who has to make breakfast tomorrow."

He gave a short laugh, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him. His face grew serious, however, as his thoughts went on to what was happening next door. Outside the large picture window, he saw the clouds part, and the moon rising on the horizon, full and somehow terrible. He wondered if he'd ever look at the full moon the same way again. "He looked so awful, Shell." His voice trembled a little. "So impossibly young for his size, half man, half child." He chewed on his lip. "So very sick he's been, and hiding it for so long."

"I wish I understood why." Michelle leaned in to George, their heads now touching as they held on to each other. "Why didn't he come forward and ask for help?"

"I don't know, but I'm guessing he was scared." George closed his eyes. "I've got to believe that his Grandmother somehow got him all het up over the changes." He felt exhausted suddenly, though he'd been positive he'd never be able to sleep this night. "Poor kid."

"Accio blanket." Michelle called softly; a warm, hand knit throw darted to them, and she wrapped it around them both. "Go to sleep, George." She whispered to him. "You've earned it."

"Mmmm." He sighed, feeling a charmed spell working around him. Michelle was assuredly not fighting fair, as the aroma of lavender and vanilla seemed to surround him.

"And then tomorrow…" She whispered into his good ear. "You can tell me all about that dung bomb you put under Fudge's car?"

His eyes blinked open. "Alf told?" He asked, feeling shockingly betrayed.

She laughed at him, soothing him down once more. "Angelina gave me a firechat a few minutes ago to check in on us. She gave me the dirty details of that little conversation on the grounds today."

George groaned. His wife had now become fast friends with his ex-girlfriend. Nothing good could come out of this.

"Sleep, George." She teased once more. "Or I'm going to ask you to sing to me."

He sighed, and let himself be enveloped in darkness, glad for the life he had, even with all its complications.

WWWWWWW

"Hold him tight, Harry." Bill urged.

He didn't need to tell Harry that, though. Harry had a firm grip on Teddy, who was shivering and twitching in a feverish trance, as he had been since moonrise. Harry continued trying to sooth him as best as he could, holding his hand and whispering encouragements.

Molly had been there, had assisted Fleur in a whole batch of fresh potions and ointments, and had just gone home herself, wanting to let Arthur know what was up. As helpful as she had been, it had been a relief when she had left, because Bill didn't want to talk too freely about his own experiences around his mother.

Teddy had come to but briefly, about half an hour after they'd apparated and only until the moon had first made an appearance. And he'd wept, with actual joy, when he realized he was in Godric's Hollow. Harry'd grabbed him tight then and had not let go since.

Fleur had taken the opportunity to make sure she got several potions down Teddy's throat, as well as what seemed a gallon of water, which Teddy drank down with no protest. Ginny and Bill, meanwhile, where massaging balm into Teddy's knees and elbows and shoulders, and even his fingers. Harry remembered Teddy's eyes fluttering open at the feel of the touch, and he'd met Harry's worried glance. "Oh, but that's so much better!" The boy had sighed, in pure relief. Then fear came up to him. "Uncle Harry, the kids…I can't be around them; I might _hurt_ them."

"No, you won't." It was Bill who spoke, because Harry found words impossible. "Teddy, I've suffered in a similar way since I was mauled. Did I understand what you were mumbling before, that you've been chaining yourself to the bed in the full moon?"

Teddy had nodded, looking at Bill with new hope dawning there.

Bill squeezed his shoulder. "Then you are no werewolf. If you were transforming, no mere shackle could have held you. And there is treatment for what you're going through. It will get better. We just need to get you through tonight."

That had been over two hours ago. Now, Teddy remained in his shaky state, and Harry thought he'd go barmy just watching him suffer, unable to do anything about it. "Bill, are you sure this is normal?"

It was Fleur who answered. "Eet is much like Bill waz, when we we're first Married." She gave a little shake herself at the memory. "I had the potions and the salve, but there is a cumulative effect."

Bill smiled gently at her. "I still take the potions every month, the days before the moon change. They keep the symptoms almost entirely at bay. I mean, look at me…full moon and I feel fine."

"Except for your meat." She gave a delicate shudder. "So much steak tartar have I gone through."

Ginny gave a deep sigh; she was sitting on the transfigured bed, still massaging Teddy's hand. "I will gladly make all the rare meat he wants, if he just gets through this." She exchanged looks with Harry, and he smiled at her with pure love.

Fleur sat back in an armchair. "Now we must only wait, I am afraid." She sighed. "That was the 'ardest, when Bill was taken ill…waiting for the fever to break. But time will be what 'e needs now."

Time. So funny how a few hours could take forever. Harry eased the hair out of Teddy's face, and then grasped him tight again. "It'll be okay, Teddy." Harry whispered. "You're home, with people who love you. It's all going to be okay."

Please, let it be okay.

WWWWWWW

Harry hadn't intended to sleep. But he found himself thirteen years old, and walking the halls with his Defense of Dark Arts class, following Professor Lupin. Above them, Peeve's the Poltergeist was blowing raspberries, quite proud of his recent prank of having stuffed chewing gum in a key hole.

_Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand._

"_This is a useful little spell…watch closely…"_

_He raised his wand to shoulder height and said "waddiwasi", waving it at Peeves._

_With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeve's left nostril._

Suddenly the room seemed to still; a quiet hush filled Harry's mind. Peeves was gone, as were his classmates. Only Remus Lupin remained.

"Hiya, Harry." His old professor said. "You've not changed a bit."

Harry sank to his knees, still somehow a boy himself in the dreams, though the Remus before him was the happy Remus in the days of Teddy's infancy. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…so sorry…I failed him, Remus, I did!"

"Hush, Harry!" Remus knelt down next to him. "You did not fail him. You were the one who saved him."

"But…but…" Harry was rocking himself back and forth, hands on his head. "But if I were a better godfather, then he'd have trusted me.. He'd have come to me and told me when he had pain, and I'd have helped him. If only I had been more aware."

"Harry, look at me." Remus met his eye, with the familiar kindness that Harry remembered from his childhood. "It's not your fault, nor his, that the first attack he had was when he was with Andromeda. He told a trusted adult that something strange was going on with his body, and, well, I'm afraid she acted badly. She didn't mean to, but she got him all twisted about how everyone would reject him if what he feared were true. He decided that must mean you as well."

"I wouldn't." Harry looked at Remus, willing him to believe. "I would never reject him, not even if he were a werewolf."

"From his point of view, you would have to protect James, Albus and Lily first." Remus pointed out. "And he'd want to protect them as well."

"There would have been things we could do." Harry gave himself a little shake "And I'll make sure he understands that, that no matter what I will be there for them."

"He does understand it, Harry. At least, he does now." Remus rose quietly and looked towards the window. "Dawn is coming soon. There is nothing so beautiful as a sunrise, Harry. At least, in my humble opinion."

Dawn. The birth of a day. The death of a night. The end of a full moon. And hopefully, Teddy, on the road to recovery.

WWWWWWWW

_It was May of 1998._

_George Weasley wandered restlessly through Aunt Muriel's house. It was coming…he could sense it. They all could, really. And here they were, cooped up with his crazy old Aunt, wondering if they would even be part of the battle, or would they be stuck in hiding in a secret house far from their friends?_

_And if the cause was lost, how long would the blood traitor Weasleys have to disappear or be killed?_

_Once it had seemed like a game. Not anymore._

_Fred came up beside him, handing him coffee. Together they stopped and stared out the windows into the grounds. His twin finally spoke._

"_Reckon Ronnie's alright?" He mused._

"_Hope so. Him, Harry, and Hermione…we're counting on them" George sighed deeply. "Wish we were with them."_

"_Mum's barmy enough as it is." Fred sensibly pointed out. He glanced back towards the kitchen. "Actually, it's Dad I'm worried about right now."_

"_So you noticed too?" Their eyes met, and the same, worried look graced their faces._

_For two days now, Arthur'd barely spoken a word. Their father, the rock, the one who never seemed to let anything rattle him, had been driven nearly ill at the report of the torture and death of fifteen muggles in a nearby town. Molly fussing and worrying they could handle. But if their Dad suddenly looked like he was packing it in, then things were bad, indeed._

"_I wish something __**good**__ would happen." George frowned towards the outside. "Just one little bit of happiness before we go off into the unknown." One last chance, he hoped, to see his family laugh again. He fought back the gut feeling that it would take a miracle for the entire Weasley clan to escape whole. But he wanted that one day of happiness._

"_I can't even think of a decent prank to pull." Fred confessed. George understood his frustration…he and his twin were supposed to handle happiness…that was what they did, make people smile. Only somehow it felt like they would never smile again._

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

_Fred and George both whipped out their wands and turned, eyes narrowed and prepared for the worst, at the loud knocking. Ginny flew into the room, her own wand out, and Arthur, looking exhausted and dark eyed, called out, "Who is it?"_

"_It is I…Remus John Lupin…and his wife and child…"_

_George blinked once. Could it be?_

"_What was the proper name of the bit of parchment you confiscated from Harry Potter his Third Year?" Fred called out._

"_The Mauraders Map, and I'm one of the bleeding authors, Fred Weasley. Mischief Managed!" The voice added._

_Fred managed a wry smile. "That's him."_

_Within seconds the small family was in. Apparently Tonks had been going utterly barmy and stir crazy, and Remus had, taking all due precautions, arranged a day out at one of the only safe places available. So Tonks, holding a sleeping bundle, and looking surprisingly happy considering their lives, stumbled in, with all her usual grace (or lack of). Remus, likewise, looked better than George could ever remember seeing him._

_Fred came up at once to take jackets, and Molly bustled about looking to get them all glasses of wine. Arthur grabbed hold of Remus into a hug, and they were quickly in conference._

"_Blimey, my arms are tired…wotcher, George!" And before George had known what was happening, she'd thrust the month old baby in to his arms._

"_Oi, I'm not good at this sort of thing!" He'd called out, feeling a sweat break out on his forehead._

_But Tonks had followed Molly and Ginny to the kitchen, where Muriel was fussing needlessly, and Remus and Arthur, now with Fred, were pouring over a newspaper Remus had smuggled in._

"…_help…someone…" George weakly called out, only to be ignored._

_He looked down at the bundle he was awkwardly holding, all pink face and…lime green hair? Pure Tonks, that! "Looks like you're stuck with me, kid." He grumbled, rocking the baby in his arms as carefully as he dared._

_The little blighter's eyes opened…golden brown eyes, curious as to this new person. George managed a smile, and then shook his head a bit, making sure that his hair was covering over the nasty scar on the side of his head, no point in scaring the little guy._

_Teddy blinked up at him, and his little nose wrinkled up and his face got red. George felt a panic rise up in his chest, fearing the kid was going to start wailing, but instead…Teddy's tufted hair went a warm ginger, not unlike George's. With a blink, then, the baby's eyes turned blue. George gave him a smile. "If you lose an ear next, I'm going to catch hell from your mother." He teased._

_For the next few minutes George found himself growing increasingly more comfortable holding Teddy, and he walked him about the living room, showing off Muriel's heinous china figurines, and telling the kid all the funny things that he and Fred used to do to them when they were forced to visit here as kids. Teddy seemed enthralled._

"_How'd you end up playing nursemaid?" Fred came up beside him suddenly, looking in at the baby. At once Fred paled. "Blimey, George…what did you do? TONKS????"_

"_Huh?" George looked at Fred in utter confusion._

"_The baby looks like YOU!" Fred hissed._

_Remus heard the last bit, and it started him laughing. He came up between a shocked Fred and stunned George and looked down at Teddy. "My son changes his appearance to suit whoever is holding him…he hasn't quite decided how he wants to look, bless him!"_

_True enough, on spotting is father, Teddy's eyes seemed to light up, and his hair and eyes became soft browns. And everyone enjoyed a bit of a laugh at Fred's misunderstanding._

_The day went on…one ordinary day when they could all pretend, for a few hours, that life was normal, that life was good, that Voldemort didn't exist. One day of laughter, of hope in the face of hopelessness. By the end of the evening George was exceptionally relieved to see his Dad actually smiling and laughing with Remus. Each of them took turns holding the baby, who seemed to relish the attention. Maybe they would all be okay._

_Suddenly Teddy set up a fretful whimper, that soon became full blown cries. "What happened?" He asked, as Tonks came over to take Teddy from Ginny._

"_Little guy's just overtired." She soothed, bouncing him in her arms. To no avail, as far as George could see. "He tries so hard to keep up with everything that sometimes he forgets to sleep, and then he gets so frustrated that he can't sleep. Without help."_

_Sitting down in a rocking chair, Tonks began to sing, in a surpisingly sweet voice, an old irish lullaby that George had never heard before. He'd find out later that it was muggle, that it was one that Tonk's muggleborn father used to sing to her. But in that moment it was just a song, just a peaceful bit of everyday life, the sort of thing they were fighting for._

_George leaned against the wall, next to Fred, both of them watching the little assembly, with identical smiles on their face. "It's all worth it, George." Fred said quietly. "Voldemort will never destroy THIS. He can't." George gave Fred a look of quiet agreement; as always, they understood each other perfectly._

_Just days later, three of the people in the room would be dead._

George burst awake, sitting up from the sofa. Where was he? Where was Fred? What had happened? Was Voldemort attacking?

His breath began to regulate, as Rufus, Alf's cat, hopped up next to him, stepping gently around Michelle and leaping up to the back of the couch, walking forward and head-butting George with a throaty purr. And the world, the present world, came back to him. Just a dream. A dream and a memory of a single day fourteen years ago, from a crazy world and a crazy life. He exhaled and rubbed his face. Not surprising, he supposed, for him to dream of the first day he'd seen Teddy.

He looked down at his wife, and gently pulled out from under the covers, arranging her on the pillow he left behind, covering her with the throw. Rufus leapt down from the back and curled up in the spot George had just vacated.

George looked at the clock; four am. Almost dawn. He went to the door, and stepped outside; it was briskly cold, and across the lawn he could see the Potter house, lights still on in the living room.

He hoped that the child who had breathed life into five very world-weary Weasleys so long ago was still breathing himself.

He had to know.

WWWWWWW

Harry was trying to sooth Teddy; the boy was in a strange trance and trembling and moaning from nightmares he could only imagine. He was still feverish and still on occasion seemed to fight against Harry to get away.

Bill had kept assuring him it was nothing unusual, though if Teddy was good about taking his medicine in the days before the moon, it would probably not ever happen like this again. But Harry couldn't help but feeling that he ought to be able to sooth him a little better than that.

Now Bill, exhausted himself, was curled up with Fleur on the loveseat, both out cold. Ginny had dozed off on a nearby chair. Though Harry had dozed earlier, he was awake now, waiting desperately for the sunrise and everything it promised.

A noise from the doorway startled him, and he looked up sharply, half expecting Andromeda. But it was George standing there, looking in the room with concern, sleep still etched on his face. Harry gave him a half smile, that was wholly empty.

"Had to see how he was doing." George said quietly, stepping in to the room around the sleeping bodies. He sat on a corner of the bed across from Harry and Teddy, and he looked with sadness at the quivering, tormented young man. "Has it been like this all night?"

"It was worse at first, actually." Harry admitted. "You should be sleeping still."

"Had a dream. Memory, actually." George gave Harry a thin smile. "You know Remus and Tonks brought him by Muriel's when he was just about a month old? While you and Ron and Hermione were busy planning a bank heist." George reached down and felt Teddy's feverish head with the back of his hand, and sighed. "That was a good day. One of the few, back then."

"Oh." Harry looked down at Teddy, and tried to picture Remus and Tonks, proud parents showing off their son. They should have had more than a few weeks.

Teddy set up a whimper then, grasping tight at Harry's shirt, fretting and twisting his head back and forth. Harry looked like he wanted to cry with him. "I just can't get him to sleep, George. I mean, Bill said that if I could get him to sleep off the trance it would be easier on him, but it's like he's overtired and just impossible."

That hit George like a two-by-four. "Uh, have you tried singing to him?" He asked, remembering that day fourteen years ago all the more clearly.

"Sing? Me? You know I don't sing much better than you do." Harry glanced at him, his eyebrows arched high. "Besides, what would I sing?"

George looked down at Teddy, still suffering so much, still in agonies he could only imagine. He remembered the little bundle of lime green fluff he'd first been handed, remembered watching him go through a thousand looks in that one day. He remembered a happy baby who delighted in being the center of attention with all those around him.

That child didn't deserve…this.

George reached down and put his hand on Teddy's forehead. He sighed; Michelle had already let the cat out of the bag. Might as well go for broke. Stroking his forehead, he began to sing, a song he'd heard first fourteen years ago, and that he'd re-heard in his days in America, on something called St. Patrick's day.

"_Over in Killarney  
Many years ago,  
__My Mother__ sang a song to me  
In tones so sweet and low.  
Just a simple little ditty,  
In her good __(old)__ Irish way,  
And I'd give the world if she could sing  
That song to me this day. _

"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby." 

His tenor was low but clear and soft, perfectly in tune. He ran through the several verses with great certainty, humming through a word or two he wasn't sure off, but otherwise perfect. And he watched as gradually Teddy's struggles eased, as a look almost peaceful came to his face. As the young man finally found sleep and rest, on his way to recovery.

As he let the last chorus fade away, he felt himself blushing. He could feel that Bill, and Fleur and Ginny and Harry were all gaping at him. He made a silent apology to Fred for letting their secret out, though he rather suspected Fred wouldn't much mind under the circumstances.

Ginny spoke first. "Who are you, and what have you done to my brother George?" She said, though with a quirky grin on her face.

George winked at her. "Can we call it my greatest prank and be done with it?"

Harry was looking down at Teddy in amazement. "How did you know?" He mused.

"Tonks sang it to him. That day they came to visit." He paused. "I sing it to Freddo now."

Bill chuckled lightly. "Thank heavens you weren't born good looking, George…you can cook, you can sing, you're smart…you would have been really insufferable!"

George shot Bill a withering glare, but Ginny got up with a stretch and a yawn. "You have to admit, George, if anybody would have known about growing up an insufferable ass, it would be Bill!"

That, George had to admit, was true. He followed Ginny's lead, and looked to her with a grin. "If you make coffee, I'll make cinnamon rolls! And we might even let Bill have a few crumbs!"

"Deal!"


	14. Ch 14 Explanations, I

Teddy woke up, feeling strange. Exceedingly strange. He couldn't place why at first, and then he realized…he wasn't in pain. Though his aches were centered around the moon change, the last few attacks had been so bad, he had never really fully recovered between them. Add to that the exhaustion from keeping his appearance up to the outside world, and he'd been suffering beyond what he'd fully realized.

Had he died?

He blinked his eyes a few times. He tried to sit up, and hesitated, remembering the agony of the restraints in Romania and what happened when he tried to move. He froze.

"You're okay, Teddy." A voice soothed him. "You're in Godric's Hollow, and you're not a werewolf. "

It was Bill Weasley, and he came over to Teddy, propping up the pillows and helping him sit upright.

He remembered, now. Sort of. Uncle Harry coming to rescue him; Uncle Harry having found him! Being in the living-room in Godric's Hollow. Bill trying to ease his worries earlier. Harry holding him tight through all sorts of pain. Someone singing to him, a strange lullaby that had seemed familiar.

He turned to look at Bill, wondering if it would be okay to have some water, but he didn't need to ask; Bill had a glass ready and assisted him; it was so good, something so simple but so clear, so clean; it seemed like he could never have enough.

"Dehydration is one of the side effects of the potions." Bill explained, as Teddy drained the glass. "And when you consider that phony Doctor had let you get pretty dehydrated to begin with, it's no wonder you're feeling parched."

Teddy wiped at his mouth and smiled thanks towards Bill, then sank back into the pillows. He decided to test his voice. "Where's Uncle Harry?" He asked.

"Finally convinced him, after we moved you up here, to take a nap himself. He did not sleep much last night." Bill touched Teddy's forehead, and smiled to himself; the fever was completely gone.

Teddy, however, closed his eyes, and said in a very small voice, "I'm sorry."

Bill kept on stroking his head gently. "What are you sorry for, Teddy?"

"For making everyone worry. For causing such a fuss. For…for everything." He mumbled out, not daring to look Bill in the eye.

"_Everything_ is a lot of responsibility to take on." Bill very sensibly replied. "Especially for a fourteen year old who must have been scared to death at how his own body was betraying him." Teddy looked with surprise at Bill, and the older man continued, "I do know what you are going through, Teddy. I have the same problem."

"But…" Teddy looked Bill up and down. "I've known you my whole life. You like raw meat, and your face was hurt, but you have no other side effects from what happened. You're always perfectly normal."

"I am now. That first year after I was mauled, it was hell. The first month, I felt like my joints were mutinying from my body; it took Fleur weeks to find a salve that eased my pain. The next few months, I'd have fevers, strange trances…I'd _sleep walk_. I was never transforming, mind. And the salve that I had from the beginning helped make things easier." Bill leaned forward. "It was thanks to my wife, and her skill as a healer, that potions were made. Things similar to what your dad took to ease his moon-change, but milder, altered for the fact that I wasn't really changing, though my body expected to. And what happened was, if I took the potions for the two days before and after the full moon, along with those ointments, there was little effect on me at all. And what there was, grew less every month that I took the medication."

Teddy had been watching Bill, as if uncertain whether or not to trust him. "So…I can be okay? I can be normal, like you?"

"Yes. If you're good about taking the potions, and I don't doubt that you will be, given how you've suffered. My guess is, next moon change will be a little bad, but not as bad as this; the one after that will be even better. This will ease."

Suddenly Teddy let out a groan, and he rolled over in bed, pounding his pillow angrily. "I am an IDIOT! Why, why didn't I tell somebody earlier?" He moaned.

"An excellent question." Harry had come into the room; he had not been sleeping so deeply that he hadn't been acutely aware of when Teddy had awakened. "And something we need to talk about."

Teddy bit his lip, and stared despondently at the wall. Rather reluctantly Bill got up, grasping Harry's arm as the two of them changed places. "Go easy on him, Harry." Bill whispered. "He's still fragile."

"Go, Bill." Was all Harry said, as he came over next to Teddy, and sat down; Bill disappeared through the doorway.

"Teddy…" Harry started, sounding somewhat reproachful, though he hadn't meant to.

Teddy immediately reacted by burying his head in his pillow and sobbing inconsolably.

"No, no…please…" Harry was astounded; Teddy was not one to cry; never had been. Broken bones, dislocated finger, that gash he got in Quidditch last year…the taunts of unthinking children, the behavior of over-thinking adults…nothing ever set him off. "Teddy, I'm not mad. I'm _sad_, and I want to understand. I need to understand what happened here?"

"I shouldn't be here. I'm dirty, and tainted. I've put you in danger." He choked out, pulling his sobs in.

Harry was scared. He reached over and pulled Teddy up by the shoulders, so they were eye to eye. "Teddy, you are my god-son. Nothing ever changes that! And you are NOT tainted; you are no different now than when I first held you in my arms. I love you."

"I know." Teddy looked with sad eyes at Harry. "That's what's so terrible. In my heart, I knew you would help me, I knew you would want to take care of me. But I just couldn't put the others in danger."

"The others? James, Albus and Lily, you mean? And what danger are they in?" Harry asked, as gently as he could.

"Gran said…she said if I changed, if the effects came out full force, that I would attack all three of them before I could even be stopped. And that if I didn't attack you first, you would probably be forced to kill me." Teddy's brown eyes looked sadly at Harry. "I didn't want you to have to kill me."

Harry was counting to ten, twice over. He didn't want to get angry, not now. Because Bill was right; Teddy was fragile at the moment, and he would misunderstand where that anger was directed.. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end, before an idea came to him.

"Teddy, will you do something for me? I know this is difficult for you to talk about." Harry rose and went over to the desk, grabbing quill and parchment. "Will you write it out for me? Put everything down that's been going on, from when you first realized something was wrong. And I mean everything…don't worry about hurting my feelings or anything, or anyone else's. Because I need to understand this. Will you do that?"

Teddy nodded, biting on his lower lip carefully. He reached out towards Harry, and took the supplies.

By the time Harry had reached the door, he could hear faintly the scratch of the quill as Teddy began to work this all out.

WWWWWWW

"…so you can see, Minerva, you've got to come back to school. You are needed."

Arthur Weasley, having been aprasied of not only Teddy's situation, but the situation with CJ and Alf and Graisnworth, knew he had to bring this directly to the real headmistress' attention.

"Arthur…" Minerva rose from the bench in Pomona's garden, walking over to a blooming rose bush. "Am I needed? Sometimes I wonder…" She paused. "I have been teaching for a very long time."

"That…" Arthur said, crossing his arms. "Is about the dumbest thing I have ever heard. Completely leaving out the fact that George is threatening to pull his boys out of the school, or that Grainsworth is threatening to have them expelled, I know nobody who lives for teaching more than you do. It's why you still do transfiguration while running the school." He gave her a coaxing smile. "I promise I won't even blow anything up for the rest of the year."

Minerva snorted. "All eight weeks of it? How generous, Arthur." She gave him a cautions glance. "Arthur, are you familiar with wild cherub root?"

Arthur blinked at what seemed to him to be a sizable change of topic. "Used as a base for pigment in magical paintings, isn't it?" He blinked. "George had dabbled with it for a few products years back, but I remember him telling me he wasn't happy with some of its properties."

"Yes." Minerva raised an eyebrow. "For starters, it is exceptionally poisonous."

"Indeed. There was a scandal in Mexico few years back about some children's toys that caused harm when they were chewed on." He shook his head. "You're not asking me to consider teaching potions, are you?"

"Allow YOU in a potions classroom? I'll hire George to teach mischief professionally first; at least then it would be PLANNED." She picked a rose, holding it to her nose, and smiling sadly. "However, it seems quite definite that I have been ingesting wild cherub root in small doses, thus causing my illness. And the symptoms disappear whenever I leave the school."

"What…wait…do you mean somebody is trying to POISON you?"

She shook her head. "And now you are channeling Ron, I see." But despite the attempted joke, she grew quite serious. "Yes, Arthur. It seems certain that SOMEBODY doesn't want me at Hogwarts any longer. And if somebody is so inclined, I am wondering why I should want to stay."

Arthur opened and closed his mouth at that response, and then he went off like one of George's fireworks, namely, loud and explosive. "Are you out of your mind? Somebody is trying to poison you and your response is to cut and run? And leave the school in the hands of the person who is trying to do you in? I can't believe it, Minerva. Ten years ago you stood ground against the worst odds of all, and you're going to let THIS send you packing?"

"Arthur." She replied acerbicly. "I am eighty seven years old!"

"Bah!" He waved his arms dismissing her age like a gnat. "Dumbledore was 125 when he died. You've got lots of life in you. And if you step aside, then that means you've let Grainsworth win."

She turned her head slightly to the side. "I don't know that it's Cotswold poisoning me."

"Right. Who else, Minerva? I've already told you how he's behaving. Nobody else gains what he does if you are out of the way." He threw himself down on a bench opposite her. "Look, George has as good as said he's not sending his boys back with that man in charge. But think about the other kids…do you want them under the rule of such a man?"

Minerva hesitated. The children of Hogwarts were _her_ children; always had been, though she came off so strict. And thinking over specifically of the current group…of the kids like Alf and CJ and Eileen and Teddy…she was particularly fond of them. Well, wasn't that what she said about nearly every group, at one point or another?

"They're in the garden, dear…" They turned at the sound of Pomona Sprout's voice from the living room. And were even more surprised when Angelina Morgainne entered the back garden.

"Professor. Mr. Weasley." She looked grimly from one to the other. "I have a rather interesting development at the school to report."

"Arthur was just telling me about what Cotswold did to the boys." Minerva started, but Angelina held up her hand.

"That is not the development I am speaking of. I regret to inform you that we have found the source of your poisoning…that elderberry wine that you take an occasional nightcap from."

"For medicinal purposes!" Minerva blushed a bit. "And how, may I ask, did you find that out?"

"Professor Grainsworth had essentially moved in to your office. He found the bottle, and he apparently went for something larger than a medicinal dose." Angelina's face had never been so serious, so unreadable.

Arthur looked over to McGonagall. "I guess that lets him out as the poisoner." He said.

"I do hope he's not too ill." Minerva rose from the bench, dusting her robes off.

Angelina raised both eyebrows. "I am afraid he is dead."

WWWWWWW

Dear Uncle Harry…

(I think this will feel easier if I do it as a letter).

It was over Christmas last year when I first started feeling strange. Yes, last year…when I was with Gran. I was all achy and miserable, but I didn't know why. She wasn't too concerned at first; I'd gone through a pretty decent growth spurt, so she figured that was it. She did make arrangements for me to see a doctor over the Easter break…but I didn't know it at the time.

I spent most of last Easter with you. I'd had another attack a few weeks previous, and I planned on telling you. But I felt completely fine once I got home…really great! And then I had that accident playing Quidditch, got that gash that Aunt Gin had to heal, and I remembered how freaked out you looked. So I didn't want to worry you, because it was probably nothing.

Anyway, Gran came to pick me up a few days before the end of the break, saying she'd missed me, and I was happy to spend some time with her; I didn't think you minded either. But once we got away, she told me about the Doctor.

I'd been writing her, you see…she asked me to tell her whenever I had any aches. And again, I hadn't thought anything so terrible about them at the time. But she'd put two and two together and come up with ten…she'd realized about the moon.

I got suspicious as to what she was worried about when we got to the Doctor. She didn't tell him anything about my medical history…namely, about my Dad. She just told the Doctor to give me a thorough exam and report back. Anyway, the Doctor poked and prodded me for what seemed like hours, only to report that I was having growing pains.

Only after that obviously relieving pronouncement, did Gran tell me what she'd feared. And then she told me why she feared it…she described what my Dad went through, how he suffered, how he'd been barely employable as a werewolf, how terrible most of his life was. She said she couldn't bear it to be me.

That didn't make me feel any better. Because I knew that although the doctor had conducted what seemed like a hundred tests, he did NOT test me for Lycanthropy…full blown or, what you're telling me I have, any syndrome. Well, why would he? Clearly nothing had bitten or mauled me, and he didn't know about my history. I do KNOW he didn't test me, because he mentioned it on his checklist...namely, that it was unnecessary to do THAT test at least.

I started keeping track myself then. By the time Gran came to pick me up for our summer tour, I was dead on terrified. And I knew I wouldn't be seeing you for three whole months, so I confessed to her what I'd concluded.

She panicked. I'll never forget the horror on her face. It was clearly terrible to her that this was what I had become. She tried to cover it, and swore that while we were away she'd do all the research she could. But she told me I shouldn't ever tell you.

She said you'd be noble. Said you would be brave, and that you'd care for me. She also said that all the care in the world wouldn't help if I transformed and mauled the kids. I couldn't live with that. So she swore she'd search for a permanent solution; in the meantime she found me some numbing salve and watched me through three changes. Each was worse than the last, although nothing compared to what you saw last night.

I was scared. I just didn't know what was happening to my body; I had grown a whole bunch more and I felt stupid and awkward without the rest of the problems. And the pain and the sleeplessness was taking a toll on my appearance. Gran looked at me once and shook her head…said something about how I used to be such a good looking boy.

Used to be.

That's when I realized I had more than one legacy from my parents. And I spent the last few days of that summer, before returning to Godric's Hollow, playing with my looks. Until I came up with something that nobody could question. I could not have been any greater picture of health than the face I showed the world.

Turned heads, too. I won't lie and say I didn't like that. It was kind of cool, that last day on the beach; girls who would have giggled at me last year, or run outright if they'd know my heritage, suddenly were fawning over me.

But the real problems were never far away. And I saw a big one…two big ones, actually. In Alf, and CJ. I could fool a lot of people. Probably not you for long, but I'd be off to school before anyone knew it, so I thought I'd get by. But Alf and CJ? No way. As much as we hung out, they'd know something was up. And my appearance wasn't going to go over with them either, in the sense that they knew how much fun I had making strange and funny faces. Well, I couldn't do that anymore; every time I went to change appearances, for a second or two my real face would show. And a second or two is all anyone would need to realize something was wrong.

So I stopped being Teddy Lupin, and turned myself into someone I couldn't stand. I overheard Eileen mock me once as the God of Gryffindor tower, and I really was becoming that insufferable. But it worked. It kept everyone who knew me at arms length.

Then October happened. The pain leading up to that moon change was excruciating, by far the worst I had ever felt. I swore then that I'd tell you what was up…I had to tell someone. Soon as Parent's Weekend hit. Only, of course, the moon change was before then, and I ended up sleep walking, and got caught on the grounds.

Boy, you were pissed when McGonagall called you in to her office, along with Gran. I don't blame you…it would have been an incredibly idiotic thing to do. Only I hadn't planned on doing it. But anyway, there was certainly no way I could talk to you in that moment. Gran was more scared than pissed, although she put on a good act. But I could see this had freaked her out, and she was looking at me like…like I was less than human. Which I suppose I was.

Anyway, I was banned from the Parents Weekend festivities, meaning that you wouldn't be coming out, and I wasn't going to get a chance to talk to you. That was terrible. And I felt sick and alone…and I hadn't liked that look on Gran's face at all. But I needed somebody. That weekend was the first time I let myself be myself a little bit around Alf, though I still kept as much hidden as I could. But I couldn't do it, couldn't cut myself off entirely from my friends.

Christmas, as you know, she never told me that she hadn't notified you about taking me away. She knew the moon change was coming, and reminded me again that I couldn't risk the kids. There were a bunch of new potions she tried, none of which worked very well. And then you sent that letter, and you sounded so angry…I know you were talking to her, but I still thought it was my fault.

You can see the pattern here. I don't know how you figured everything out, but I'm glad you did. But I still feel sick about what I put you through. I love you, and Aunt Gin and the kids, more than anything, and when I thought I'd never see you again…never see anybody again that mattered to me…I really just wished I would die.

If I say I'm sorry a thousand times, will it be enough? I really want you to forgive me…I really want to be a part of this family again. And then maybe Alf and CJ and Eileen will forgive me for how stupid I was for not trusting them. I've done everything wrong, and somehow you still seem to love me. I'm not sure I deserve that.

But I'm glad you do anyway."

WWWWWWW

Ginny watched Harry reading the paper Teddy had given him without words. The kids were up in bed, having satisfied themselves that their Teddy was back and going to be all better. Bill and Fleur had gone home with their kids as well; Victoire had looked in on Teddy, but the boy had been sleeping at the time. Still, she looked up at Bill with this horrible sad look, when she saw how Teddy really appeared. Then she went in and kissed him on the forehead, before leaving.

But Harry was still here. And Harry went ashen first, and then red, and then a sick gray, and then Harry had tears rolling down his face so badly that his glasses nearly slid off his face. He excused himself, and went upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door.

Ginny picked up the letter and read it. Twice. And a rage like none she had ever known filled her.

"Mistress is okay?" A voice asked.

She looked down. It was Delwyn, one of George's house elves. He'd sent her over to help out with any necessary clean-up and to prepare food if necessary.

"No, mistress is not okay." Ginny studied the worried Elf carefully. "Can you do me a favor, Delwyn? I need to know the whereabouts of Andromeda Tonks."

"Master Teddy's grand-mother?" Delwyn asked.

"Yes. Her."

"I will find her with pleasure, Mistress." Delwyn bowed low. "Shall I then bring her here?"

"Absolutely not. You are to alert me at once to where she is, and let me handle it. I do not think she should come anywhere near the house at the moment."

"As mistress wishes." And Delwyn disappeared with a pop.

Ginny wasn't entirely sure what she meant to do. But she was her mother's daughter after all, and doing nothing in this situation was unthinkable.

WWWWWWW

"Anyone in there?"

"Laying about?"

"Being lazy."

"Being mysterious."

"Aloof, perhaps?"

"Or just plain stupid?"

Teddy opened his eyes, and found a smile, though a rather uncertain one. Alf and CJ were each looking in from the door, which was cracked open.

"All of the above?" Teddy answered.

He got two wide smiles in return, and they came in, carrying a plate of cookies. "From Dad." Alf said. "You look like you could use to eat one."

"Or twelve." CJ corrected. "Some diet you've been on."

"Metamorphagy diet. It's going to be all the rage." Teddy pushed himself up on the pillows and took a cookie…gingersnaps, still warm from the oven and smelling amazing. He glanced up at his two friends uncertainly. "You're still speaking to me?" He asked.

Alf turned to CJ. "I thought we were speaking. Did I go mute? I know I saw YOUR lips move?"

"Bloody hell…he's lost his hearing!" CJ put on a look of mock horror. "That isn't in the textbooks!"

"You're both real wise-asses." Teddy tossed back, but his smile became more confident.

"I believe you mean WISE." Alf took a cookie himself, and pointed his chin out. "Wise enough to figure out what was wrong with you. Quite brilliant on my part, if I say so myself."

"Oi, you had help." CJ shoved him over, and Alf laughed as he pushed back. "I will say, Lupin, you certainly set the three of us quite barmy over this. You do realize we will have to get back at you in the near future, when you least expect it?"

"That should make the last weeks of school interesting." Teddy laughed, then paused. "If they let me back at school…what?" He caught, suddenly, that Alf and CJ were both looking rather sheepish and guilty. "Hey, what?"

"Um…see, we're not at all sure that _we're _going back." CJ started.

"Seeing as how Grainsworth is still acting headmaster."

"And we hexed him."

"Twice."

"After he'd already told me I was expelled…"

Teddy had been looking back and forth between the two of them, each of them blushing more as they kept talking. "You hexed him? When?"

"See…" Alf looked at CJ, unsure how to continue, and CJ carried on for him.

"Alf got himself in trouble, miscreant that he is, by insisting in the great hall that Grainsworth tell us where the heck you were. He took exception to being made to look a fool while he was acting headmaster and all, so he rescinded Alf's right to go home for the holiday."

"Whoa! Uncle George must have gone bats!" Teddy gaped at them.

"Right, see that's where it gets interesting." Alf took over. "CJ jumped from the train…"

"In a manner of speaking."

"…and called Dad. Who came out just after Professor Morgainne…"

"Who was quite decent through the whole thing, I must say." CJ interrupted, earning a glare from Alf, who went on once CJ motioned for him to do so.

"…and I finished rummaging through your room and realized that you were in Romania. So Dad shoos us out of the hall, and confronts Grainsworth, where we understand from Professor Morganne that he hit the bloated goat with the family legacy."

"Bat bogey curse!" Teddy said at once. "But wait, I thought you guys cursed him?"

"Yes, well…" Alf looked a little sheepish, but finished the tale. "See, we didn't know Dad had cursed him, so Dad comes to get us and he is STEAMING MAD. And he says we're going, and then here comes Grainsworth after him, and they're having it out, and Graisnworth starts insulting Dad…both of my Dads, actually…"

"And we took exception." CJ finished. "Between us, trust me, he wasn't worth looking at."

Teddy's eyes lit up, and he actually started laughing, something that seemed utterly impossible yesterday ago. He hugged himself tightly, he was still achy, but couldn't suppress the giggling fit that had come over him as he pictured the scene exactly as it went down.

"Sure, he LAUGHS." Alf looked at CJ in mock indignation. "He didn't have to listen to Dad blow our eardrums out!"

"Yeah, but that's only because he was too far away to hear it. I'd bet everyone in England did." CJ said wryly.

"Sorry." Teddy put on a properly abashed face, though his lips still twitched. "Were you in very much trouble?"

"Again, Professor Morgainne saved us…"

"We really do owe her…"

"As she started listing every stupid thing Dad ever did at our age." Alf's eyes twinkled. "Then he went from angry to flustered and embarrassed."

Teddy took another cookie, and sighed. "So. None of us might be going back to school, eh?"

Alf considered that. "I'd say that you clearly haven't been expelled, and thus were definitely going back, but Uncle Harry saw part of what happened, and I don't think he wants you any closer to Grainsworth than Dad wants us."

The full realization hit Teddy like a brick. "So it might be that NONE of us go back to Hogwarts? Man, that would suck!"

"Totally." CJ said.

The three of them were silent for a few minutes, munching on cookies thoughtfully. Teddy broke the silence. "Guys? Thanks?" His voice was quiet and almost meek.

Alf and CJ looked at each other, and then spoke together. "Shut up. Idiot."

WWWWWWW

The two boys were walking back home in silence, after Ginny had shooed them away so Teddy could rest. They paused at the picnic table in the back yard, and sprawled there.

"God, he looks terrible." CJ finally said, looking paler than normal.

"Like hell." Alf agreed. "I can't believe…" He swallowed hard. "I can't believe that's how he's been feeling all year." His eyes got haunted. "He must have been very close to dying."

CJ shivered. "We could have lost him. Over something as stupid as blood fear."

"Do you think he could tell we were freaked out?" Alf asked. "I wouldn't want to make him feel bad."

"I think we carried it off pretty well." CJ set his shoulders. "We bring him more cookies tomorrow, though. He needs to be fed, full stop."

"Agreed." Alf and CJ nodded firmly, when George stuck his head out the back door.

"Oi, you have to see this…Freddo's levitating the cat! I can't imagine where he got that idea from!" The door banged shut.

"Wait…" Alf blinked. "That's MY cat! RUFUS!"

CJ smirked as Alf ran in a panic, and followed at a more leisurly pace.


	15. Ch 15, Explanations, II

Six members of the Hogwarts faculty were present in Minerva McGonagall's office, discussing the incidents which had lead to the death of Defense Against Dark Arts teacher Cotswold Grainsworth. Every potion and liquid meant for consumption had been tested, and had been found to be safe; only the Elderberry Wine, solely appreciated by Minerva McGonagall (although apparently Grainsworth had developed a taste for it) was affected.

Angelina Morgainne and her husband Matthias, Neville Longbottom, Filius Flitwick, Arthur Weasley and returned Headmistress Minerva McGonagall were trying to solve a plethora of problems before the students were due to return in four days time. Mainly, was it in fact safe for anybody to return, and if it was, then who was going to handle the DADA classes, not to mention acting as head of Slytherin House?

Arthur looked at his watch. "Percy's been investigating the poisoning...normally it would fall under Harry's jurisdiction, of course, but he's been otherwise occupied this break."

"Naturally." Minerva looked sharply at Arthur. "How is Mr. Lupin doing?"

"Considerably better, although still pretty fragile, from what Ginny tells me...his self-confidence seems to have completely disappeared." Arthur accepted a glass of sherry...freshly bought from Hogsmeade...and sipped it with a little frown.

"I am not surprised." Angelina mused. "As much of a front as he's put on this year, Teddy has never been as self assured as people might think him, except when he was with his friends." She stroked her hair back from her face. "I do wish Alfred had sorted into Gryffindor, and not only because I am envious of Ravenclaw for the best keeper since Oliver Wood!" Filius chuckled and raised his glass to her. "It would have done Teddy well to have someone he could trust implicitly in his own house."

Arthur sudden sharp look at Minerva. "You're not considering isolating him in any way because of his condition, are you?" His eyes narrowed.

"Not in the circumstances." She gave him a little smirk. "I have here a detailed letter from your oldest son on what Teddy is going through, how we can expect it to affect him, and how it ought to be treated."

"Bill did that?" Arthur blinked in surprise. 

"He did...Matthias has looked over the potion requirements, and we know how to proceed. We will, as a precaution, keep him overnight in the infirmary during the full moon, but beyond that I see no reason to restrict him from anything." She smirked at him. "You will be further relieved to know that I am not expelling Alfred and CJ..."

Filius rose to his full height...such as it was, and suddenly let lose with a stream of curses that was shocking coming from the usually affable wizard. "Preposterous from the beginning, targeting students who were no more than concerned for a friend...I know one ought not speak ill of the dead, but THAT MAN had no business teaching; he was only into it for the power...like makes you a big man to intimidate a child."

"I did not sense that either Alf nor CJ were terribly intimidated." She raised her eyebrows. "Frustrated and upset, but not intimidated."

"It is strange, though..." Minerva was looking over a stack of parchment. "Cotswold was normally quite meticulous, but his notes on this incident are incomprehensible...it's almost as if he were confounded!"

Neville and Angelina studiously made a point of looking everywhere but at each other.

"Anyway..." Filius calmed down, bringing them back to the point at hand. "Assuming the ministry clears us to re-open, we still have six weeks of DADA classes to cover..." He gave a chuckle. "Almost seems like the old days!"

There was a momentary silence, and then Matthias, who had been staring rather intensely at his wife, began to speak. "Angelina, I believe you had something you wished to mention?"

She turned and glared at him. "Not now, I think."

He didn't break eye contact. "On the contrary, now is the perfect time."

Minerva turned to Angelina, smiling gently. "Certainly, if you have any ideas has to how to handle the situation, I would be most grateful."

Angelina shot Matthias a look of death, and gave an indignant huff. "Fine. It's just that I had mentioned to Matthias before I ever came back here that what I would really like to teach is Defense Against Dark Arts. I had ample practical experience while I was in Uganda, certainly. And, of course, an excellent teacher here." She smiled a little to herself.

Filias and Minerva looked at each other in confusion. "What are you speaking of? During your�schooling we could never keep a teacher more than a year, and most of them were terrible, Remus Lupin excepted!"

This time Neville and Angelina did look at each other, with knowing smiles, with Neville speaking. "I believe she is thinking of Harry Potter."

"Ah." Minerva understood. "Of course."

"Yes, but whether or not I would prefer to teach DADA is irrelevant. Moving me to DADA just creates a void in potions, and still leaves us without a Slytherin Head of House." She pointed out. "Which is why I hadn't been going to say anything!"

"I can cover potions." Matthias put in. "Obviously, I am more than skilled in them. I have two classes in Advanced Healing from Professor Fabry-Weasley that will have to be worked around..."

Arthur rubbed at his face. "We might perhaps get Michelle to come out to finish those up. It's only for six weeks, after all, and I think I can safely say that Molly wouldn't mind watching the baby for a few hours a week." He chuckled. "Actually, Michelle might have a hard time getting him back."

"And I would be willing to handle head of house duties for Slytherin." Matthias put in. "Though, of course, with both Potions and Head of House, I would hope that for next year you would find a longer term solution...I have extensive research I have been working on here while covering the Infirmary, and that is really what I love focusing on."

"Yes, but this would handle the crisis short term quite nicely." Minerva brightened up. "And truthfully it is easier to find a Potions-capable teacher than a DADA. To be honest, anyone old enough to teach DADA who has ties to Slytherin house probably has concerns to be considered. The little patch-up you are suggesting buys us time."

"Oh!" Arthur said suddenly.

"Yes?" Minverva, and everyone in the room looked at him.

Arthur blushed, and rubbed his hand over his bald spot. "Er nothing. That is to say, nothing yet. Just something I want to work out. But an idea, to be sure." He suddenly took a great breath and gave Minerva a very resolved look. "I cannot say anything now. But I will perhaps have more to say later."

Minerva knew Arthur well enough not to argue. "Fair enough. Now if we just get a guarantee that we CAN open, we are prepared to do so..."

There was a crackle from the fireplace, and Minerva looked into a glass orb that guarded her quarters, as they were the only place from which you could floo. "Ah, here's Percy now." She waved her wand over the hearth, and within seconds, Percy popped in to the room, dusting himself off fastidiously. "Ah, excellent." He looked around the gathering. "Everyone together. Good, good." Percy caught his father's eye, and cave him a meaningful look, before addressing the assembled group. "It's safe to open the school. What we seem to have is not a case of intentional poisoning, but of a tainted batch of wine."

Minerva blushed faintly. "Well, now I feel foolish...clearly I've been through one too many conspiracies in my day."

Percy gave her a little bow. "Well, in fairness to you, the outcome could have been the same regardless of the reason. In any event, I can assure you that we've traced the shipment, and are taking all necessary steps to ensure it doesn't happen again." He paused momentarily. "If I could make a suggestion off the record, I would avoid any imported beverage coming from the Eastern European federations right now."

"Ah." Matthias nodded slowly. "Yes, I've heard there's been a spot of trouble. Best to be on the sharp look out."

As some more general conversation broke out, Percy gave his father a little nod, and the pair of them walked out into the hallway.

"What is it, Perce?" Arthur asked.

"Keep an eye on CJ. Whatever is going on here is bigger than I can say, and I suspect his father might be involved, even if only indirectly." Percy glanced around briefly, but it was the holiday and they were quite alone.

"I see. Is the school being targeted?" Arthur asked, in a worried tone.

"I don't think so. Emphasis on _think_. It is certainly true that between here and the continent there have been seventeen deaths and hundreds of hospitalizations because of the tainted brews. Kingsley thinks somebody is looking to undermine the Filipowski regime." Percy took a deep breath. "Dad, when I said to keep an eye on CJ...I mean that both ways. Watch out for him, but also be careful _of_ him."

"PERCY!"

The younger wizard held his hands up. "Dad...I like him too. I think he is a good kid. But he lived with his father for eleven years...we don't know what kind of damage that man did. I don't think CJ would intentionally do anything harmful...but fourteen year olds don't always know what they're doing."

Arthur frowned hard, but reluctantly nodded. "Amos cannot be trusted...this I grant you. But I think CJ is finally trusting George enough to go to him if he were being used in any way."

"I hope so." Percy sighed. "I don't want anything further to happen to the family, CJ included." He watched his dad. "You know that Wheezes won the contract to prepare the celebrations for the Eastern European Federation's centennial?"

"I did. Quite amazing, really; George's work is brilliant, but it can be tough to crack those outer markets." Arthur could not have disguised his pride if he tried.

"Well chosen and well deserved. Which we both know usually has got nothing to do with how a Wizarding Ministry awards a contract." Percy pointed out. "I just hope there isn't something more sinister at work here."

Arthur sincerely hoped so as well, for George's sake as much as anyone else.

WWWWWWW

Andromeda Tonks sat listlessly in her kitchen, staring at her coffee, wondering how it had all managed to go SO wrong. She loved her grandson, and all she ever wanted to do was keep him safe from what the world would subject him to if her worst fears were proved true. There was nothing she would not do for him, no sacrifice she would not make to cure him. She felt sure that as difficult as the treatment would be, that in the end, when Teddy was normal once more, he would forgive her for his suffering, for only then would he have his life back.

Dragasani had told her to come back the day after the moon change. And she had done so, though still haunted by Teddy's distress and at the hard line she'd had to take with him. To be honest, she'd started doubting herself the moment the doctor had struck the boy; she just couldn't see how that would get him cured.

When she'd arrived at the clinic, it was shut up, boarded tight, all occupants vanished as if from thin air. She'd been frantic, driven mad with fear and with self loathing, as she contacted the authorities.

_Shut down._ She was told. _Criminal investigation._

But where, where were the patients?

There had only been three others. They had been transferred to other hospitals. A rather bored looking Romanian official had looked at her grandson's name and said, in strained English, "He was picked up by his…god-father? It was a…Charlie Weasley…who told us what had happened, and who even agreed to sign a complaint. We had been after that place for years, but the families…ashamed of their children…they would never help. This was a great wizard, this Englishman. But should he not have the boy? Mr. Weasley had papers from England saying that this Potter had rights."

"He has rights." Andromeda stuttered out, her heart sinking. "And I was not _ashamed_ of Teddy!" She felt herself flushing brightly.

The wizard she was speaking to, tall, spare and angular, looked down his long nose at her. "Of course not. That was why you brought him to another country to a…how you call it…charlatan…to be treated out of sight of those you know. This I have seen before. That boy was lucky to have someone who cared for him."

The words had been icy daggers to Andromeda, and she'd tried to go back to England, only she'd splinched herself, she was so stunned by this turn of events. She had been in St. Mungos for three days, only stumbling into her lonely, cold house this morning.

She knew, of course, that Teddy must be with the Potters. Had he transformed? Had Dragasani cured him somehow, despite these accusations? If he had, well then, she stood by her choice…Teddy healthy was all she ever wanted. She hadn't been ashamed! She only wanted, desperately, to not have Teddy suffer as his father had.

She'd seen Remus going through his moon times…they had been terrible. Dora had weathered them better than she had. And Remus had worried, worried terribly when Dora was pregnant, that his kind should not have children. He would not worry to Dora...but late at night, when she was sleeping, he would worry to Andromeda, worry repeatedly that the baby might be tainted by his blood. Andromeda had soothed him out loud, but she'd taken those worries to heart.

What a relief when Teddy had been so blessedly normal, aside from the completely harmless gifts he'd inherited from his mother. Until this past summer, when it all fell apart.

And now? She wanted, desperately, to know how he was doing. But what did she say? Harry would be furious, she knew; she'd never not consulted with him before on decisions regarding Teddy. But Harry, she had been positive, wouldn't be able to think clearly on this. He would claim loudly not to care if Teddy was a werewolf, and make a big show of standing beside him. But all the bluster Harry Potter could summon wouldn't buffer Teddy from the cruelties of the world. It's not as if everyone had Harry's sensibilities.

And the fact that she'd been unable to contact anyone for several days probably wasn't going to help her case with the Potters, now. They would think she had abandoned him. And she hadn't, she hadn't! (Only why, when she insisted on that in her mind, did she see Teddy's stricken and fearful face as she walked away from him at the hospital?)

A knock at the door startled her, but before she could rise from her table, it burst open, making her jump backwards. Ginny Weasley, wand out, strode forward, a house elf just behind her, carrying a satchel.

"Andomeda." Ginny said. "Fancy seeing you in England. I had rather wondered if you'd been killed in Romania…I certainly could picture nothing less keeping you away from your beloved grandson."

Andromeda bristled at Ginny's tone. "Perhaps if my beloved grandson hadn't been kidnapped from under my nose," She snapped. "I would not have splinched myself and ended up in St. Mungo's for the past three days!"

Ginny was unpacking the satchel…pulling out a pensieve and a piece of parchment. She glanced sidelong at Andromeda, before replying. "Yes, I can see you are looking less than well. I do know, of course, how concerned you must have been at Teddy's disappearance." Ginny's eyes became hard and her lips became thin. "How could I not know, when I _someone_ spirited away the child that I have helped care for since his birth right from under our noses, with no idea as to where he was being taken, or what was being done to him. Of course, _you_ must have been fairly clear as to where Teddy was. Perhaps an owl at least explaining your absence might not have been a bad idea."

Andromeda drew herself up, and jutted out her chin. "Perhaps I ought to have done so. But I will not regret what I did. I only wanted to help Teddy, and I did not trust Harry to do what was necessary."

"Right. Because Harry has a history of being untrustworthy, of running away from difficult decisions, and abandoning his friends." Ginny smiled sweetly at her, and Andromeda blushed.

Finally, unable to contain herself, Andromeda asked what was first in her mind. "How is Teddy? Was he cured?"

"Cured?" Ginny made the word sound like a curse. "Cured of what, may I ask? If you fear he is a werewolf, you know damned well there is no _cure_ for Lycanthropy, only treatment."

"Dragasani said there was…and there was nothing I would not try to save Teddy from a terrible fate."

Ginny dragged the pensieve forward. "These are Harry's thoughts." She said. "These are the memories he has from when he found Teddy in Romania. They were so heinous to him that he could not keep them in his mind right now…and Harry never moved a memory to a pensieve before, not even from his days fighting Voldemort. Please…if you want to see how Teddy responded to that _cure…_take a look."

Andromeda leaned forward reluctantly…her head went in to the swirling mists, and she was pulled in to what Harry Potter had told his wife, was the worst memory he'd ever had.

WWWWWWW

Teddy was sitting outside, curled up on a blanket under a tree, enjoying an unusually fine spring day. In his lap was Alf's cat, Rufus, who had come by to visit. Remarkable cat, Rufus was…always seemed to intuit when someone was needing the feline equivalent of a hug. Of course, Alf would probably say that Rufus was here to escape Freddo; it seemed that the youngest Weasley had taken to levitating him. CJ had interjected that Rufus seemed to enjoy the experience, which had earned him a death glare from Alf. 

Well, for whatever reason Rufus was here, Teddy was glad. He got tired easily still, and his bones still hurt, so the more active play of Harry's brood wore him out. And though CJ and Alf would gladly spend hours just hanging with him, making him laugh with their antics and what was becoming their rapid fire wit, today they had gone to visit their grandmother. And somehow Rufus was just comforting.

"Hey, Teddy." Harry came up beside him, and Teddy smiled. He still felt guilty, sometimes, that he hadn't gone to his Godfather for help, but what he saw in Harry's face was a mirror of guilt. Now, he sprawled next to him, ruffling his hair gently. "You're looking better."

"Feel better." Teddy said, stretching his hands before him. "Pain's almost gone."

"School is in a few days." Harry said. "Are you feeling up to it? You can stay home a few more days, you know…we can work something out."

"I want to go back." He said quickly. "Alf and CJ are going back now, so I feel okay with that. And I…I need to prove to myself that I can be normal."

"You ARE normal, Teddy; as normal as anything is in this crazy world of ours." Harry gave him a little smirk, and then looked deep in to his eyes. "Are you going to go back to manipulating your appearance?"

Teddy arched his brows in surprise. "I thought you didn't want me to anymore? You said I'd heal faster if I didn't."

"I know what I told you. I'm not foolish enough to think that you won't be tempted to do otherwise when you're back in classes. And now that you have your potions and the right salves, you're healing anyway."

Teddy pursed his lips, as he thought the whole thing over. "I'll be honest with you…I'm kind of scared to go back looking like this. I look like crap."

"No you don't!" Harry protested, making Teddy smile.

"Uncle Harry…what you mean is I don't look like as much crap now as I did when you first found me." Teddy managed a playful nudge. "But the kids at school last saw me looking perfect. THIS is going to be a shock. And people are going to make fun of me."

"Not the people that matter." Harry took his hands. "Not Alf…not CJ…not Eileen. They will stand by you, Teddy." He took a deep breath. "I know what it means to have friends like that. I know what that kind of friendship is capable of." Harry laid both his hands on Teddy's shoulders. "Professor McGonagall wrote me with a very unusual offer, Teddy. If you want to change houses…if you want to go in to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin, to be with one of your friends, she will allow the change. That has never happened before." Harry gave his shoulders a squeeze. "And I would be okay with that…I need you to know."

Teddy's eyes went wide. "Leave Gryffindor? I've wanted to be a Gryffindor all my life!" He protested.

"Yes…because I've raised you to want that. Because I made it seem like a bigger deal than maybe it should be." Harry admitted. 

Teddy shook his head. "I wanted to be in Gryffindor because I wanted to be like my father…because I wanted to be brave. Because I knew…" He paused. "Because I knew I would need to be brave. Even before I got sick, people always looked at me funny until they got to know me. I knew I needed Gryffindor bravery to get around that." And he smiled, then. "And I am brave, Uncle Harry. I can get through this. Professor Morgainne has always been decent to me, and I hear she was really great when Grainsworth was causing problems. And I do have friends in the house, just not as close as Alf and CJ. But I know they will accept me eventually; it will just take them getting used to."

Harry gave him a smile. "If that's what you want…and I do know Professor Morgainne will be available to you. You must promise me, Teddy, that if you need help you will go to her? Because I am going to worry." Harry admitted. "I love you quite a lot you know."

Teddy blinked, but gave Harry a long hug. "I will owl you every day at first…just so you don't go barmy." He said before pulling away. "And I'm not going to keep up that false appearance, I think. It takes way too much energy…and besides, I didn't really like that Teddy Lupin very much. He was an ass."

"He was scared and coping as well as he could." Harry corrected.

Rufus raised his head, suddenly, as there was a burst of noise next door;. The Weasleys had apparently arrived home, and with a loud clatter Alf and CJ burst out of the screen door, going to set up the picnic table. He heard their whoops and laughter, and gave a little smile; the cat, meanwhile, reached up and nuzzled his chin, before bounding away over the lawn and through the hedge.

"Hey, Roo!" Alf's voice carried from the yard. "Visiting Teddy again, eh, you prodigal cat! Freddo was stuck having to levitate Tang!"

Teddy chuckled and leaned against his god-father. "I'll be okay." He said, before looking up at the older man. "Um…have you heard from my Gran yet?

Teddy watched as Harry tried to fight the reaction, but he saw his jaw tighten and a nerve seem to thump in the side of his temple. "Not yet, kiddo. I'm sure she'll come by before you have to go back to school." Harry's expression said that she had better.

"I think she just wanted to help." Teddy said, again; he'd tried to rationalize Andromeda's actions since he'd gotten back. Well, he had to; it was incomprehensible to him that she would have wanted to hurt him. "I do want to talk to her, Uncle Harry."

"Of course you do." Harry's look became understanding. And then a little glint came into his eye. "So do I."

Uh, oh.

WWWWWWW

Andromeda was weeping; copious tears that Ginny made no attempt to soothe away. She had come away from the pensieve shocked, frightened, and nauseous. She knew now that Teddy was healing, and would recover, but she had now seen what exactly that 'doctor' had done to her grandchild. Had done with her blessing, no less.

And then Ginny had given her Teddy's letter. Only then, Ginny suspected, did Andromeda realize how her actions must have seemed from Teddy's eyes.

"I didn't mean it." She sobbed. "I was never ashamed of him; I was scared for him, not of him. But oh, he must hate me…he must! He should."

"Perhaps he should." Ginny's voice was dry. "But I don't believe he does, Andromeda. You were foolish, and wrong. But you've loved him unfailingly for thirteen years prior. Those don't disappear because you screwed up."

Andromeda blew her nose loudly. "I am no better than my sisters." She murmured. "I didn't mean to, but the blood fear I was raised with must have crept in to my thoughts."

"You are nothing like your sisters." Ginny said, harshly. "Narcissa is vapid and barely capable of caring even about her own son, and if you were anything like Bellatrix I'd have killed you years ago."

Andromeda's mouth twisted slightly. "You are your mother's daughter, Ginevra." Andromeda murmured. "But what do I do now? I can't just pretend this never happened. I abandoned Teddy, nearly killed him. How do I go forward."

"You start by talking to him. And Harry." Ginny nodded once. "I can't say that Harry will want to leave you alone with him. I think you understand why. But until you see him, until you make sure he knows you can accept him in his condition, nothing can ever get better." Ginny's eyes narrowed. "But I swear, if you do anything to hurt him, I will hunt you down."

"I understand." Andromeda wiped her nose. "I don't think I can risk apparating. Can we floo back? I don't want to hide from this anymore."

Ginny was a little startled…she hadn't expected Andromeda to want to take this on at once. But the earlier the better; perhaps. There was a part of her that wanted to keep the woman away from Teddy permanently, but she suspected that might not be the right thing. Teddy had a right to confront her, to tell her in person how she'd made him feel, and to hear her out. If Teddy didn't get that, Ginny suspected he wouldn't ever fully start recovering.

She gave an abrupt nod. "Let's go now." 


	16. Ch 16 Stands

Teddy was in the living room, playing wizard's chess with James. He was holding Albus on his lap, and Lily was not far away, playing "bakery" with some children's clay, creating strangely colored pretend pies and cookies that the boys dutifully pretended to eat. Harry stopped by on his way out to the garden, with a grin. "Are you cooking like Mum, Lily?" He asked.

Lily gave Harry a very serious look. "Not like mum. Like Dorge."

Teddy chuckled at her, and winked at Albus, before making a move on the board. "See...Albus...now, let's see if James can guess what to do next.

James glared at him. "I don't _guess_." Then, he made a very confident move.

"Interesting." Teddy moved his knight, who obliterated James' bishop, and said, with a challenging smile, "check."

James raised an eyebrow, and moved his rook. "Check MATE!"

"Good show!" Teddy grinned, as his king was beheaded. "I wasn't sure if you'd see that."

James looked utterly pleased with himself, as he helped pick up the figures. "When you come home for summer, I wanna play with you trying to beat me, instead of helping me learn." He winked at his little brother. "Albus and I will keep trying to beat Dad."

Lily looked up from where she was rolling tiny purple balls of clay, calling them blueberries, for use in a little pie crust she had done. "I'm gonna beat you all when I can play." She insisted.

"Like we'd dare oppose her." James muttered under his breath.

There was a commotion from the floo, and Teddy looked up, expecting to see Aunt Gin. He did in fact see her, but he saw another figure step out from the fireplace as well. James froze in his motions, and Albus hugged him tighter, while Lily gave a cool stare at the newcomer. They may not have understood everything that had happened over the past week, but they knew Andromeda had been keeping Teddy away from them, and that was enough.

Still, Teddy felt glad to see her, hoping she would realize that he was alright, that he was going to be okay, and wanting to get past everything that had gone on. "Hi, Gran." He said, as bravely as he could.

Andromeda stared at him. Teddy looked considerably better than he had when Harry had found him, but he still could use about twenty pounds on his frame; his hair, while no longer matted, was still dull and unhealthy looking, and his skin had gone from gray to simply pallid. Andromeda said nothing for a few seconds, then put her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry, looked over at Teddy with what he felt was revulsion, and she ran away.

WWWWWWW

Harry spotted Andromeda running in to the back garden, and saw her fall on to the ground, rocking herself. He had known what Ginny had been up to this morning; he had approved of it fully, hoping that she might be more rational than he would be in the process. Andromeda couldn't, he knew, have been inside for more than five minutes, if that; so what was she doing out here? Why wasn't she in begging Teddy to forgive her? He was pretty sure Teddy wouldn't have said anything to her to upset her...the child was, as children often were, much more forgiving than an adult would be.

He came forward, with meaning full strides, and Andromeda saw him. Trembling, she rose, and made steps as if to apparate; Harry pulled out his wand. "Don't do it, Andromeda. For one thing, you're in no condition, and for another, I can't imagine you ought to be leaving yet."

She looked at Harry, tears running down her face. "Oh, just let me go, Harry. Please, just let me go...I can't be here, I can't bear it.

"There is no way..." Harry seethed, forcing himself to keep calm. "That I am letting you leave until I see you and Teddy working this thing out. Whether I like it or not, and right now I am not, you are an integral part of his life and he loves you."

Andomeda merely turned away with a sob

The screen door flew open and Harry looked up to see Teddy, face flushed red and wet with tears, coming out to confront his grandmother. Ginny ran behind him, carrying Lily, the boys following her. She came up beside Harry, even as Teddy spoke.

Well, screamed was more like it. "I am NOT freak, Gran. I'm not, and you need to stop making me feel that way!" He in haled hard, but his eyes blazed. "Don't you look at me like I'm worthless. I'm YOUR grandson, and what I am, and what I have, _isn't_ going to go away!"

Ginny whispered over to Harry. "She took one look at him and freaked out. Ran without saying a word."

"But he doesn't look so bad now!" Concern, Harry would understand, but this reaction was incomprehensible.

"Teddy...no...don't...you don't understand...no..." Andromeda moaned, backing away from him.

Teddy stopped still, his face becoming ashen. "Are you afraid of me?" He asked, his voice becoming hurt. "Afraid of me? I'm not even a werewolf. I have a syndrome that causes me some symptoms. Uncle Bill's been like this for years, and he's married and has kids and is doing JUST FINE." Teddy's voice broke. "How can you be AFRAID of _me?_ I am your grandson!" He held back sobs just barely, as he himself sank to the ground. "You are supposed to love me NO MATTER WHAT!"

Harry felt himself close to exploding; bad memories, of the Dursleys and how they had treated him, pounded in to his brain. He went to charge forward, to hold on to Teddy, and protect him from this woman, when Ginny, of all people, held him in check. "Not yet, Harry." She murmured.

For Andromeda was looking at Teddy again, this time her own face softening , and slowly she came over to him, kneeling on the ground beside him. She put both hands on his face and lifted it towards her. "Oh, Teddy..." She trembled, but forced herself to go on. "I am not afraid of you. You are no freak." She blinked. "I look at you, and I think, I have done this to you, by my stupid fears and my stupid pride and my stupid ignorance of what you faced. I did worse to you than I ever feared would be done to you. I look at you, and see what I've done...and I don't understand how you could ever forgive me, or why I have a right to ask you to." She stroked his hair. "I do love you." She whispered. "I love you enough to know I don't deserve to be near you."

Teddy wiped at his face, and shook his head at her. "What about what I deserve?" He asked, calming himself. "Don't I deserve to have you here if I need you? This all started because you didn't want to listen to what I was afraid of, to listen to what I thought I needed. You going away doesn't make anything better."

They stared at each other for a few moments, then Andromeda bent down once more to kiss Teddy's head; Harry exhaled; for a few precious moments he thought maybe it was going to get better. Then, without warning, Andromeda succeeded in apparating; leaving Teddy looking at mist and air instead of his grandmother. The boy let his head sink in to his chest, while Ginny, let out a stream of foul curses. Harry this time did come forward, kneeling on the ground next to his god-son.

Teddy looked at him with clearer eyes than he would have expected. "I suppose that could have gone better…but then again, it could have gone worse." Teddy's voice was sad, but not shaky; Harry hugged him close.

"You are a far better man than I am, Teddy Lupin." Harry said, wanting desperately to find some way to take away all of Teddy's pain.

"Bollocks." Teddy said at once. "Sorry, _language_, I know." The young man let himself lean in against Harry, and took a deep breath before speaking. "I didn't really expect it to be this easy. She's stubborn, you know? I mean, I have been living with her off and on all my life and I know this; when she gets something into her head, she doesn't let it go easy." Teddy let Harry help him up. "But at least now I know."

Harry watched him carefully. "Know what?"

Teddy managed to set his shoulders, and let out a deep sigh. "She's not mad at me. Or repulsed. She's angry at herself and she's being stupid. She decided she's bad for me the same way she decided she was the only one who could help me." Teddy shrugged and then seemed to come up short for words.

"You did everything you could, Teddy. It's on her, now." Harry put a hand firmly on Teddy's shoulder, and they walked back towards the house, James running up and taking Teddy's hand; Ginny followed them holding Lily and with Albus grasping her.

"I'm going to write her…soon as I get back to school. Just like normal. Until she see's that it's going to be okay. Because it is."

"It is." Harry squeezed Teddy's shoulder, and made a silent oath that it _would_ be okay, if there was anything he could do about it.

WWWWWWW

**FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY**

Our first day back at Hogwarts after an adventurous Easter break, I must say.

We got Teddy back. Our Teddy back, like he used to be. Well, only taller, but still…the old smile, the gentle joking, the loyal friend. He's survived his ordeal and come out in true Gryffindor fashion, as Alf likes to tease him.

Eileen about fell over herself running up to hug him when we got here; he looked like he felt a little silly about it, but didn't mind, either. He leaned down and said a thank-you to her, just loud enough for the rest of us to hear. Well, we understand well enough, Alf and I; we spent enough time in the past days trying to keep him cheerful and recovering.

He's quieter than he ever used to be, though; sometimes I think he's still haunted, maybe still suffering. I know how long it took me to stop expecting my father to swoop in on me, even after I'd come to live with Uncle George. Teddy of course has a much more solid footing to fall back on than I ever did. But it might just be more shocking for him, to have gone through what he did for these past months. Still, he is strong…I think he gets that from both of his parents by all that I've heard.

The last day of the break was my birthday. It was the first day Teddy was fully healthy, though he's still much to bloody thin. Still, it was great, both our families spilling in to the back yard, steaks grilling, Uncle George's food; Freddo levitating Lily, who didn't like it nearly as much as Rufus does; oh, did she let up a howl of indignation! I think James and Albus snickered behind their hands at that; Lily had nailed them on more than one occasion with a hex, and they never dared to retaliate since she was younger.

It was an absolutely wonderful afternoon for everyone, except of course me. Not that I didn't keep up appearances; I did. The family had been through enough this past week. But this birthday meant just one thing to me; I am fourteen years old, and what was a four year window for a solution to my problem has now dwindled down to two, and I am still as clueless as ever about what in the devil I am going to do.

It's worse, though, after what happened at the beginning of the week. When Uncle George was spitting angry with Grainsworth, my unlamented former head of house. He called me his son. Rather, he called Alf and I his sons…right before chewing both of us out in the manner in which only a father would. I half thought I'd misheard him, didn't know if I was afraid I'd misheard him or hoped it. But later that night when we talked, he almost seemed surprised I didn't realize it earlier.

He loves me.

Well, hell, what am I supposed to do now? Destroy his livelihood, the place that he built together with the twin he still misses so much? My stupid little plan has worked a bit too well, I think. I told my father that the betrayal would be even worse if I'd wormed my way into the family, but even I never expected _this_! Of course, that plan was really more an explanation to keep him off of my back and out of my hair…I've not, since day one, ever really considered blowing anything up, even if it killed me.

Which of course it will.

George Weasley loves me like a son. His son thinks of me as a brother. There is a four month old baby with a tuft of red hair who grins like crazy when I enter the room. There is a woman who has been the closest thing to a mother that I have ever had. How do I hurt them? How?

I have been hoping to dream that dream again, the one I have sometimes that seems to be a glimpse of the future, of the proof that I have one. Sometimes something little will happen that makes me believe in it, giving me a tiny moment of peace. Like at the beginning of the break, when I was escaping from the train, and Liv came out and threw that dung-bomb to let me get away. I hadn't asked her to help, and she hadn't asked if I'd needed it; but for that second when our eyes met, it was like I was looking at her forty years from now. Yet we've not really talked so much; she's only twelve, and she's in Ravenclaw. Still, sometimes when we're near each other I just know.

Aunt Ginny was musing the other night, when everyone was over, that she'd always known she and Harry would end up together, even when he was refusing to see it, even when she was pretending she didn't care. It was just there, always, like the air that she breathes. Well, that's how I feel about Liv.

When I'm convinced that I have a life beyond my sixteenth birthday, that is.

Oh, hell…I can't sleep. I'm going down to the common room to do some reading. It's not like I have a head of house to fuss at me.

WWWWWWW

CJ was curled up in an oversized leather chair, trying to read _Breaking Curses through the Ages, _which of course was worsening his mood, rather than improving it. Tang, the pygmy puff he'd rescued from the store two years ago, was purring quietly in the pocket over his chest, and on occasion he'd reach over and pat the little ball of fluff gently. But it didn't take the frown from his face, as he scowled into the book that was giving him little in the way of answers.

"Young Mr. Diggory." A smooth, deep voice called him out of his dark thoughts, and he would have jumped, but he still had years of training of life with his father ingrained in him, so instead he lifted his head from his book, pointed out his chin, and with a raised eyebrow addressed the visitor.

"Master Morgainne." He replied. "I hadn't expected to see you."

"Apparently not. Did your former head of house approve of such late hours?" The wizard sat in the chair opposite him; he clasped his hands together before him and held them before his face, watching CJ carefully.

"My former head of house approved of anything that didn't disturb his own sleep." CJ answered frankly, even as hesighed in resignation and closed his book. "Are you our permanent head of house, then?"

"Not permanent, no." Morgainne flashed him a smile. "That would be a bit of a strain on any marriage, the wife head of Gryffindor, the husband head of Slytherin, eh?"

They both laughed; that hadn't quite occurred to CJ, but it was certainly true enough.

"Still, for the rest of the year, you are quite stuck with me. Now, then…" With patient, but insistent hands, the man took the book from him. "You are interested in breaking curses, then, Mr. Diggory? I had thought it was your friend Mr. Lupin who wished to be a curse breaker."

"He does. I'm just…curious. About how curses and other things take hold of one." He was watching Matthias Morgainne very carefully. This wizard had lived a good life, but a hard one. He had fought for freedom in the most remote places in the wizard world and had suffered horrible torture in the process. It occurred to CJ that perhaps, perhaps here he might find help. "Can I tell you something, Sir?"

"But of course." Morgainne's eyes were kind and patient.

CJ felt his blood rush immediately; felt something rising within him, threatening to choke the life out of him…he felt, instinctively, that if he got too close to the truth his throat would close right up. Well, any hope he'd had that the oath hadn't taken hold of him properly seemed to be out of the question. He shivered a bit, but decided to say what he could. "I…can't explain properly, Sir. But I want to know everything about how oaths work. Proper oaths, I mean; real wizarding ones. I just want to know how they work." He repeated again, fighting back the clutching in his chest.

"Ah." Morgainne nodded. "You are not, I hope, planning on making anyone swear to an oath?"

"Never. I swear on my brother's grave." He said at once, as his breathing seemed to normalize. Then, an idea hit him out of the blue, and all his Slytherin cunning came in to play. "You know, I want to know how marriage oaths work. They are…binding…aren't they?"

"In the wizarding community, they are. Though in extraordinary circumstances they can be broken." Morgainne's smile became more pronounced. "Have you gotten yourself married, Mr. Diggory?"

"At my age? I have enough problems just passing potions!" CJ managed a smile. "I am thinking about my parents."

Morgainne turned his head to the side gently. "Your mother has passed beyond, I understand, though your father is alive. Why should you have questions on their marriage?"

CJ gathered himself up, and leaned forward, hoping to be convincing. "You know, I suppose, what my father is like? I mean, that's why I live with the Weasleys. Well, I was hoping, I guess...the house elves let something slip…but if their marriage weren't proper, it might help me dissolve my formal relations with my father."

"And let you be formally adopted by George Weasley?" Morgainne's eyes were even more gentle now. "Does he know what you are investigating?"

"No." CJ paused. "I don't want to raise his expectations. I understand he tried to adopt me in October and was refused by the ministry. I'd like to do this on my own." Mentally CJ crossed his fingers and waited.

"Well, you will not find any answers tonight." Morgainne handed him the book back, and patted him on the head. "But in your free period tomorrow, come by the infirmary, and I will help you as much as you can. I have studied many strange rituals and oaths in Uganda…you might find some answer to your questions."

CJ felt the first real feeling of hope that he'd had in months. "THANK YOU, Sir!" A wide smile filled CJ's face as he rose to return to his dorm room.

"I make you no promises, mind…marriage oaths are only surpassed by unbreakable vows in their strengths. But what help I can offer, I will give."

CJ hoped he'd hidden how suddenly his hopes came crashing down, but he gave an understanding nod, as he returned to his bed. Still, he had something, some path to take.

"Tang…we'll get through this yet." CJ muttered.

The tiny puff purred in agreement.

WWWWWWW

Alf was keeping a close eye on the patterns that were beginning to form in their little group, as they all settled back in to school.

Teddy had been his chief concern from the first. More than a few people had gaped when he'd returned from break; several had backed away from him. Well, it was a startling transformation, to be sure; he'd left looking like a model and returned looking like a gangly fourteen year old who'd grown too fast for his own body to keep up with, and who'd been through a serious illness. Several of his former friends in Gryffindor backed away from him, including nearly all the girls.

There were exceptions, of course; the other kids in Teddy's year came around by the next day, rallying about their house mate, especially as a group of Slytherin boys began taunting him. With a flourish of hexes, rapidly broken up by Professor Morgainne, the third year Gryffindors had gathered around Teddy's defence.

CJ had come up to him smugly. "I'm taking credit for it." Alf just raised an eyebrow. CJ continued, "I happened to let Adolphus Bird overhear me tell Angus Morin that Teddy swore he was still better looking than he was, even without metamorphagy."

"Teddy never said that." Alf had pointed out.

"Of course not. But Adolphus thought he did. Tell me, what brings a bunch of Gryffindors to your defense more quickly than being unjustly attacked by a group of Slytherins?" CJ smirked, making Alf just shake his head.

"It did work." Eileen had to admit.

The next few days had shown the truth of it. Though Teddy often quite pointedly sought out the company of his closest friends, his Gryffindor allies were never far behind.

Alf had thought CJ's action was rather fool hardy, and not something he would ever do. That got tested by day four.

Teddy, Eileen, CJ and Alf had enjoyed lunch on an unusually fine spring day, sitting outside under their favorite tree, and laughing. Alf had plans to pop over to see his step-mother; she was finishing up those two advanced healing classes and this was her first day back. Teddy had gotten up to take the walk with him, when a tall, stocky fifth year stood before them.

It was Geoff Rodgers, whose father was a curse breaker and who Teddy had made such a show of getting chummy with at the beginning of the year.

"Lupin. See you've gone back to slumming it with your old friends." The older boy said, his arms crossed in front of him.

"My true friends." Teddy said. "And given that you haven't spoken a word to me before now, clearly I can't count on you as one of them."

Rodgers sneered. "Like I want to know you. LOOK at you, you look like hell…people getting out of Azkaban look better."

Alf came up next to Teddy on one side; CJ on the other. Neither of them were nearly as imposing as Geoff was, and Teddy, despite his height, was still almost frail. "That might make a friend ask what he'd gone through these past few months." Alf said coldly. Out of the corner of his eye he realized Eileen had come up next to him. Still, he wasn't sure that the four of them could take out Geoff.

Geoff made a point of shuddering. "Like I'd want to be friends with a _beast_ like you, Lupin."

CJ spoke next. "How terribly droll, Geoff…did you think that insult up by yourself, or did you spend the past four days in the library working it out?"

"Don't be stupid, CJ." Eileen replied. "Rodgers hasn't got a clue where the library is."

With a mocking laugh, Rodgers took a step or two away from the group, and, as Teddy turned with a shrug to walk towards the castle, in the wing where Michelle's classroom was. Alf, never taking his eyes off of Rodgers, was the slowest to move.

Geoff wasn't done. He called, loudly enough for most of the kids outside to hear, "You shoulda been expelled, you FUCKING WEREWOLF!"

Alf didn't know how he did it. But he did. Throwing all of himself into it, with one swing he connected a solid punch that absolutely laid the taller, heaver, and apparently stupider, boy out cold.

WWWWWWW

Which is why, one hour later, Alf found himself with a bandaged hand sitting in Headmistress McGonagall's office getting his head handed to him, while his step-mother stood in the background, arms crossed, and not saying a word.

"…really had not expected such behavior from you, Mr. Weasley; you normally show far more sense than that. While I realize that Mr. Rodger's verbal sparring was completely unacceptable…"

_That's an understatement! _Alf huffed in his mind, smart enough at the moment not to speak, but letting the headmistress rattle on about letting staff handle such bad behavior on the part of people like Rodgers in the future.

"…And he is twice your size, at least! Whatever you can have been thinking, I can hardly guess; if you hand't caught him by surprise he would have flattened you, and THEN what would I have told your father?" Minerva came to a stop, rubbing the back of her neck. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Alf spoke carefully. "I realize I shouldn't have done it. I was overly sensitive about what people would be saying about Teddy, and I reacted on instinct. It won't happen again." He said.

"It had better not. You have two weeks of detention with Professor Angelina Morgainne, as it is one of her housemates you have attacked."

_Ugh, two weeks of scrubbing cauldrons._ But Alf knew better than to complain.

"It would seem…" Michelle spoke for the first time. "That something ought to be done about Mr. Rodger's behavior as well. His comments about Teddy should not go uncensored by the school, unless we want to see more of them occurring…or else there will no doubt be other instances of broken noses as children exact revenge on their own terms."

"His nose is broken?" Alf asked, surprised that he could ever get that solid a shot off. His step-mother quelled any further outburst with an unusually stern glance that told him he was best off saying nothing.

"Agreed. Mr. Rodgers will also have detention for two weeks…in his case with Professor Flitwick. Now, I believe you both have classes to get to."

Right. Without further comment, Alf followed Michelle from the room; she immediately pulled him off to the side.

"What were you thinking, Alf?" She asked him, in a pained voice that was much more effective than if she'd yelled at him. "Do you know how much trouble you could have been in?" Alf blinked up at her and swallowed once.

"I wasn't thinking." He admitted, feeling stupid suddenly. "I just didn't want anyone to think that Teddy was open prey."

She sighed, hard, and then took his wrist. "How is your hand?" She asked more gently.

"Just bruised." He said; Master Morgainne had bandaged him up pretty quickly. "Did I really break Geoff's nose?"

"You did. They're still talking about it on the grounds. Apparently Geoff had the reputation of being a bit of a bully all around." Alf thought he might just have seen Michelle's lips twitch. "It's nothing to be proud of, in spite of all that. You let your temper get the best of you, and you've got to learn to control that, Alf. It's not going to help you."

"I know." He said, looking at her very seriously. "I really am sorry."

"Yeah…not as sorry as you're going to be after two weeks of scrubbing cauldrons." She roughed his hair. "Go on, now…you've got charms."

"I wanted to find out how Freddo was doing." He asked. "We were on our way to visit you when…well, when everything happened."

"Ha, Freddo is out of his mind looking for Rufus to levitate. We bought him a stuffed cat to practice on." She squeezed his shoulder. "Now, go…you don't need more detention heading your way!"

He gave her a grave smile, before heading on to his class, wondering what his father was going to have to say to him.

WWWWWWW

He got the howler that evening at dinner. The other Ravenclaws looked at him in sympathy, and Liv came over to squeeze his hand. He braced himself, and opened the letter.

"ALFRED WEASLEY…" George's voice boomed into the great hall.

"_I don't know what you were thinking behaving in that rash manor. That is completely uncalled for. I expect you to govern your temper better than that. How are you supposed to be an example to your brother and cousins by acting no better than a common hoodlum!"_

The letter went on for several more angry sentences before it burst into flames and a puff of smoke; across the hall he could here a similar…actually, much, much _worse_ howler being played out at the Gryffindor table, courtesy of Geoff Rodger's father. Really, all things considered, George could have said, or threatened, a lot worse than had been done.

"Whoosh." Teddy had come over to him. "Sorry about that."

"Well, I'm not." Alf said, dusting ash off of himself. "I mean, I am sorry I let my temper get away from me…but the thing is, if I had thought over I probably would have still done it, only without the element of surprise."

"Which would have gotten you flattened!"

Alf shrugged. "How's things in the house?"

"Are you kidding? Geoff's been torturing the first and second years since September…you're a hero." Teddy smiled. "And a better friend than I deserve."

"Will you shut up already?" Alf laughed as he walked towards the dungeons. "Stupid Git."

"I'm stupid? You punched a Gryffindor twice your size…some Ravenclaw!" Teddy called back, but Alf had already disappeared.

WWWWWWW

As he poked his head into the dungeons, Alf couldn't help remembering that it was just a few years ago that the thought of detention with Professor Morgainne would have made him ill. A lot had changed in that time. Still, although he knew there would be no blood quill, he knew she was still tough, and that the next two weeks were not going to be fun.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley." Professor Morgainne looked at him with an unfathomable gaze. "Have a seat. You have brought your books with you, I assume?"

"Uh…no, actually, I didn't." He was puzzled. Why would he need books to clean cauldrons?

"I see. In the future I expect you to be better prepared." She handed him a spare third year potions text book. "I suggest you start working on your paper that is due next Friday. I would be happy to answer any questions you might have."

Alf gaped at her. "You want me…to study? In detention?"

"Would you _rather_ clean caudrons?" She asked, with arched eyebrows.

"No, no…I'll study!" He said at once, opening his book and quietly marveling at his good fortune.

Towards the end of his three hours he looked up to see Professor Morgainne handing him a glass of milk and some cookies. "Not your father's quality…but you need to keep your energy up."

Alf smiled at her in absolute shock. She winked at him, and then leaned forward. "However, if you tell anybody here that I have been anything less than Morgainne the Gorgon I will find every cauldron that ever passed through this school since the day I graduated and make you scrub them all with a toothbrush!"

"Understood!" He said at once. No way he wanted THAT detention!

WWWWWWW

When he got up to his bed that evening, with a fully completed potions essay, he found a letter and a package waiting on his desk. Harlan looked over at him. "Owl brought it about an hour ago." He muttered, before closing the curtains around his own bed.

Alf did the same before opening the letter first.

"Alf…

Sorry about the howler. I realized that if I didn't send one it would only be a matter of time before word got back to your grandmother and I heard an earful from her about how I was allowing you to run amuck and endangering your life and sanity. Frankly I can't afford to lose another ear.

Seriously, kiddo…I know you know better than to do what you did. But…I'd have done the same thing.

Shouldn't have said that. It was inappropriate, violent, aggressive, and an over-reaction to some stupid words from an overgrown troll of a fellow student.

It's still what I would have done, though. I can't pretend any differently. And better for you to throw a punch than a hex, really; you can do a lot less damage.

I'm afraid I'm in some hot water with Michelle, though. I was just a little too pleased when I'd heard that you'd broken the nose of a kid twice your size. I shouldn't be. I know I shouldn't be. But I am.

Because I would have done the same thing.

Harry and I were discussing it quietly over dinner tonight…well out of earshot of Ginny and Michelle. I think he wants to appoint you to the ministry right now, he's so happy. Of course, I shouldn't say that either. But what that idiot Rodgers was about the worst thing he was afraid of Teddy facing at school, and thanks to you I think it's safe to say nobody will be taunting him again.

Did I mention I would have done the same thing?

Anyway, there are cookies in the package. Hope Angelina's not working you too hard. And don't let your homework suffer too much while you're doing detention…trust me when I say that I know too well how easy it is to get behind.

Oh, and PS…if you love me at all, burn this. If Michelle ever sees it, she'll kill me."

Alf grinned, took a single cookie and vowed to share the rest with the group tomorrow. But burn this letter? Are you kidding? It was about to become his most prized possession. He was a Ravenclaw, after all!

A few complex charms later, the writing on the letter had morphed into Greek. Literally. Only a specific password would revert the letter to its original text. He folded it up carefully, and tucked it into his bag, before throwing himself down on the bed. Rufus hopped up next to him, sat on his chest, and purred loudly and expectantly into his eyes.

"Oh, alright…just once." Alf sighed, waving his wand. Rufus rolled over on to his back, and levitated joyfully about two feet off of the bed. Alf kept him that way for a good five minutes before tiring, and releasing the cat, who curled up in a happy ball at his feet, and Alf gave in to his own exhaustion at his eventful day.


	17. Ch 17 Unfogging the Future

Angelina Morgainne was lounging in her private rooms, which, thanks to the clever addition of a passageway, now adjoined those of her husband's, as they were heads of rival houses, though just for a short time. Angelina was thrilled with now being the Defense of Dark Arts teacher, even if at the second it was only interim. Matthias was covering her potions classes, and they were working together to get everything done. It was as perfect a life as she could wish.

And she knew…though Matthias did not…that it was even more perfect than it appeared.

He came in to their sitting room now, removing his robes with a tired sigh. "Angelina, my love…" He sat beside her, and she feigned indifference, though she was anything but as he laid his head on her shoulder. "…I should very much like it if you would explain something to me my dear."

"I am sure you would." She smiled slightly. "Whether or not I opt to explain anything is another matter.

"As it has always been." He lifted his head up and leaned in next to her, rubbing the back of her neck seductively. "Though I have ways of making you talk."

"_As it has always been_." She leaned in to his touch. "But I have yet to hear a question?"

"Ah, yes. My question is thus…why, my love, did I understand you to have spent the last hour cleaning cauldrons, for the third time this week, when you would seem to have ready help to take care of that little matter for you?" He kept nuzzling her neck.

Angelina felt her face growing warm. "Ah, my able assistant has been otherwise occupied during his detentions." She wondered if Matthias would let it drop.

Naturally not. "Otherwise occupied? I know you do not care to give lines, my dear…" She cringed. "…but had you any specific tasks related to the Defense classes that need menial labor? For I know you pride yourself on your reputation as a tough teacher and would not wish to be seen as going soft."

"You haven't heard, I am sure, that I am doing any such thing." She pretended to have renewed interest in her book.

"I have not. Mr. Weasley gives every indication of the resignation of detention worthy of a young man having to clean a hundred cauldrons each night. Thus my confusion as to why the cauldrons are not clean." He stroked her neck more insistently and whispered into her ear, "Tell me, love."

Finally she sighed. "Matthias…I must beg you to give me leave to run Alf's detention as I see fit." She saw the twinkle in his eye and bristled. "And I'm not going soft! Not for all I owe George; I know George would not ask me to be easy on his son. George himself would have taken the detention in stride, and so would Alf have done. But I choose to take another path."

"And yet, it was a Gryffindor Alf attacked?" Matthias asked.

"And a Gryffindor he defended." Angelina retorted. "Besides, all year I have wished for one student to come forward and report Rodgers' bullying. None would. I could hardly take action when nobody would complain. Alf rather neatly solved that for me. Nothing is less effective than a bully brought to earth by someone two years younger."

"And half his size." Matthias agreed. "Well, I cannot say it is the first time you have been unexpected, Angelina. But do not wear yourself out cleaning those cauldrons. They are my responsibility now."

Angelina smiled ruefully at him. "I suppose I didn't wish to let you know just how _soft_ I was being, Matthias. And you have your own heavy load." She pondered for a moment. "I have noticed you have spent much time tutoring Diggory. He's a solid potions student, but I have not observed it to be his passion. Has that changed?"

"No…he has a rather more personal quest he is asking for assistance one. That he has shared with me in confidence as his head of house." Matthias rubbed at his short beard thoughtfully. "I do not imagine Grainsworth was much a source of confidence for his students."

"I expect you're right. Well, so long as CJ is not planning on blowing up the school."

They both laughed at such a ridiculous thought, as they curled up into each other, watching the fire.

WWWWWWWW

Towards the final days of his detention, Alf came down into the dungeons, to the sound of violent retching. He dashed forward to find Professor Morgainne quite sick to her stomach, still wearing gloves and having evidently bean in the process of cleaning the multitude of cauldrons from the day's potions lessons now taught by her husband.

"Professor Morgainne…are you okay?" He asked, alarmed. She looked ashen.

"I am FINE." She snapped, then, seeming to get a whiff of the potions that had been in use during the day's classes, she went wan again. Rather than throw up in front of her student, she darted from the rooms, yelling back to him, "I AM FINE. Continue your work as you have been doing."

_Right_. Alf thought. He used his wand to clean up the mess from Angelina's illness, and frowned in thought. The potion she'd been cleaning out was an advanced one, a healing potion he recognized from his step-mother's talents. A lot of obscure ingredients, and very complicated. And he remembered one other thing distinctly: Miss Shell had been singularly unable to be anywhere around it, when she'd first found out she was pregnant with Freddo.

Right.

Without another word, Alf put aside his homework and diligently began to work at cleaning out the expanse of cauldrons before him, using magic when necessary (not usually allowed in detentions) because he rather thought she wouldn't mind. Under the circumstances.

WWWWWWW

Angelina found him two hours later, after a bout of heinous dizziness and nausea that returned whenever she even thought about the cauldrons. She was determined to tough out the feeling, though; she had no intention of forcing Alf to alter his detention…the boy had exams coming up and shouldn't have his studying interrupted.

To her surprise, as she steeled herself for those blasted cauldrons, she found Alf just finishing up the last of them. He smiled at her confidently as she just stood there. "I used some magic, Professor. I didn't think you'd mind."

"You were supposed to be studying." She murmured, looking with relief over the shiny row of pots and inhaling the wonderful smell of cleaning citrus.

"Actually, as far as anyone in the school knows, I am in fact supposed to be scrubbing cauldrons." Alf wiped his hands on a nearby towel. "So it's not exactly some heinous hardship. Besides, I'm pretty far ahead in my work, thanks to you."

She met his eyes suddenly, a question dying unasked in her mouth.

He returned the look with surprisingly kind understanding. "Does Master Morgainne know yet? I should have expected him to be shouting the school down. Dad was, when Miss Shell told him about Freddo."

She blinked. "No…and if you tell him…" She paused, unable to think of a remotely suitable threat, considering what Alf had just done for her.

"Right. Toothbrushes. I understand. But I think you ought to tell him soon. My Dad isn't at all medical, and Miss Shell kept him pretty clueless, but Master Morgainne is a healer. It won't take him long."

"You have a point." She looked around, and shrugged. "I'd say you were released for the rest of the night, but I could hardly have Minerva thinking I was going easy on you by letting you go."

Alf grinned suddenly. "I'll make you a bit of tea, and if you wouldn't mind going over the last of my potions work, I'd appreciate it. I'm up to the extra credit work now, and I think I'm close to getting it right."

"Agreed." She smiled after the boy, and sat weakly on the sofa as Alf went into the small kitchenette.

"_Oi, Ang…what's wrong with you!"_

"_Fred…Don't come near me!" Angelina had buried her head against a tree, but she should have known that mere words would never keep away a Weasley._

_Third year. Two years before a fateful Yule ball would bring an element of romance into the Weasley twins. Then, the both of them were just the best beaters she'd ever seen, and off the Quidditch pitch, the most notorious troublemakers she'd ever known. _

"_Ang, really…what's wrong?"_

_She'd looked up at him, holding a napkin against her mouth. Bloody Professor Snape had forced her to drink Marcus Flint's failed potion, and she'd been throwing up every fifteen minutes for the past hour. All she knew is she didn't want ANYBODY, least of all one of the bloody Weasley twins, to see her this way._

_She was stricken with another bout of nausea, and turned away._

_Fred had reached an arm over to steady her, and to her shock, he held her long braids away from her face, rubbing her back gently as he did so._

"_That potion, eh?" He guessed, actually sounding kind._

"_Marcus Flint is a bloody idiot." She moaned. "I wish I knew what crime I committed in a past life to deserve being his partner."_

"_You must have done something. Lord knows I'm sure he did nothing good enough in a past life to merit you." _

_She glanced up at him in suspicion, but it seemed he was actually sincere. Until he handed her a candy. "What...is…that?" She asked him._

"_Little something George and I have been working on…antidote to a project we've tested out on each other. G'on, it'll help."_

_She, by all logic, should have run away. Taking food from Fred and George was like taking diplomacy advice from Minister Fudge. But it was hard to be that suspicious of a boy who was very kindly holding your hair for you while you puked your guts up. So she took the candy._

_Instantly the nausea vanished. She'd had no idea, but she'd been handed a prototype antidote end of a puking pastille. _

_Seeing, with no small measure of pride, that Angelina seemed to be fully recovered, Fred had let her hair go, and helped her up, hitting her with a freshening spell for good measure. "Thanks!" She stuttered out at him._

_In the background, she heard Lee Jordan calling him. Fred turned and yelled back, "On my way." He then gave her a fierce, lightening bright grin. "Keep your stomach on, Ang. Can't have our chaser leaving pieces of herself all over the grounds."_

_And with that, Fred had run off, leaving her in awe at everything that had just gone on._

Alf stuck his head around the corner. "Chamomile, Professor?"

She managed to brush away the tears of memory as she stared in to Fred's smile. "Chamomile will do fine, Mr. Weasley. Thank you."

_Thank you._

WWWWWWW

Letter from Percy Weasley to George Weasley:

George...what I am doing is highly irregular and quite the violation of ministry rules. But I'm doing it anyway.

Okay, pick yourself up off the floor and keep reading.

Seriously, George...I feel like I need to let you know what's happening, as much as I can, which is more than the minister would allow. But I'll never again let work interfere with my family.

There's something nasty afoot in Eastern Europe...the recent incidents with the poisoned wine is part of that. However, that in and of itself doesn't concern you...we're working behind the scenes on it and are in fact two steps ahead of the dark forces trying to take hold. I believe they will be in for a very nasty surprise when they go to make their moves.

We've been using Amos Diggory to obtain information...usually false information, I might add, as we have another informant in the area I cannot name. But more importantly we've been using Diggory to plant false information, quite successfully. In any event, we have been in close and constant contact with him these past months.

And this is where you are involved. I've seen the transcripts of conversations with Diggory, and in more than one situation he alludes to CJ in strange ways. Disturbing ways. He refers to his son on many occasions as his tool, his instrument of revenge. Which is bizarre; I know he has written to the boy seldom and seen him only once in the past two years. And of course I know CJ myself; he has always struck me as a good kid, if rather reserved.

But George, I am more and more convinced that there is a danger there..._to_ CJ almost certainly, but, as I indicated to Dad before Easter, perhaps _from _CJ as well. It pains me to think it. But we have to face reality: CJ was under his father's control for eleven solid years. We don't know what that man might have done to him. I do not believe, from all I've seen, that CJ would ever intentionally hurt anyone. But we know, you and I, that people can be made to do things in our world.

I have asked, without the minister knowing, for our contact to try to find out specifically the nature of Diggory's madness. CJ as an instrument of revenge...against whom? And HOW? Diggory's woes came from Voldemort and the death eaters; Voldemort is long dead and the death eaters imprisoned, mostly. Our contact, understanding my concern, will do what he can without jeopardizing the larger issues, which is all I could hope for.

Perhaps you may be able to discern something from the boy...but I rather fear not. Diggory is mad, our contact is convinced, and I am sure that in some way the boy is not even aware of, he is being used. Against what or whom I cannot guess. But I want you to be advised. I know that if anything were to happen to him, it would be devastating to you. And I will not have that.

I will give you more information as I get it. Please, destroy this.

Percy.

WWWWWWW

George felt Michelle's hand on his arm; she had noted his pale face as he was reading the letter from Percy and had come over to him at once. "George?" Her voice asked, even as she grasped him tightly.

Without words he handed the letter to her. She read it over, twice, and then their eyes met, both mirroring the same worries. Without words, she took the parchment and muttered a quick, "Conflagro!"; the letter evaporated in a puff of smoke, leaving behind nothing but a scant teaspoon of ashes.

"Shell..." George's voice caught in his throat, and she came up to him, hugging him. He rested his chin on her head and paused, gathering his thoughts and controlling himself as best he could. "If I get within five hundred yards of Diggory again..." He hesitated, and forced half a chuckle. "Well, Alf throwing a punch at a school bully is nothing compared to the loss of temper I will demonstrate."

"Me too." She admitted. "Oh, George...do we really think CJ has been damaged in some way by that man? Beyond the rampant physical and emotional abuse, I mean."

"Percy thinks so." George "I can't believe it, Shell. I mean, I can believe Diggory would try, but CJ is a good kid; I cannot believe that there's something inside of him that is beyond repair. I won't believe that." He whispered fiercely.

They stood together for some moments, before she spoke quietly. "If we could only find out what his father's object is, we could protect CJ in some way. But one thing Percy had right...over eleven years there are many terrible things Amos might have done to him. And it's not uncommon for a child to block a particularly nasty memory. It could be buried deep inside him, and him not even knowing it."

"It isn't fair." George murmured. "But then, it's not the first time I've learned that life isn't."

"YEEEK!"

The shriek of indignation came from Freddo, who'd been left momentarily alone in his high chair. He seemed thoroughly annoyed with his parents at their inattention, and as they turned, proceeded to pick up his bowl of strained peas and dump it over his head. "GA!" He added for emphasis, as green slime oozed down his face.

George laughed...he couldn't help it, even as Michelle put her head in her hands. Seeing George laugh, of course, Freddo took both hands and began to run them through the goop, rubbing it deep within his hair and down the side of his face. Which of course made George laugh harder, holding on to the countertop for balance.

"Laugh all you want, George." Michelle smirked. "It's YOUR turn to bathe him." And kissing him quickly, she turned to go back into the living room.

"And she thinks I object, Freddo!" George chuckled. He picked the five month old gingerly out of the high chair...Freddo reached for him at once to share his bounty of slime, and George let him. "Pleased with yourself, are you? Well, there's _some_ fairness in this world, kiddo." Holding the baby on one hip, he headed in to the kitchen, pulled out the bath and began to fill it with water, even as he coaxed Freddo out of his clothes. "Because I quite enjoy this as much as you."

As he eased the baby in to the tub, Freddo squeeked with joy, grinning once more and splashing, as George rinsed the pureed food out of his hair. "Yep...it's still red." George looked over his shoulder to make sure Michelle was out of earshot, and leaned in with a conspiratory whisper. "Let me tell you again your new favorite story, about your brother Alf standing up to a horrible troll of a fifth year student, who threatened his friend."

'Ppplbt!" Freddo answered.

"And then, before bedtime, I will tell you the story of how CJ bravely jumped off a moving train to save Alf from a horrible hag of a teacher who was torturing him."

"Yaaaaaaaaaa" Freddo splashed water into George's face, and George splashed him back to his delight.

"You have two very special big brothers, Freddo." George continued, rinsing him off. "They didn't come in to our lives in quite the regular way, but they're all the more special for that. And someday you'll understand." He lifted Freddo out of the water and wrapped a towel around him "Yes, they're both very special...and they will always be there for you. And we'll always be there for them. And all for each other. It's how we do things around here." George's voice became firm.

Freddo turned a head to the side and began to whistle, blinking up at his dad appealingly with his wide green eyes, and George grinned back down at him; understanding the request, began to sing, making up words as he went along:

_Well let me tell you a story_

_Bout a boy named Alf._

_He hated nasty bullies_

_And dismissed them with a laugh_

_One day he couldn't take it_

_And he threw a mighty punch_

_The rotten bully fell_

_And he landed in his lunch..._

"GEORGE!" Michelle had come to see how they were doing, and she looked at him in horror, one hand over her mouth. George just smirked at her, and bounced Freddo up and down, and thought over Alf's detailed letter he'd received on all the events that had happened at school

_And his brother CJ_

_Found a way to go along_

_Using quiet cunning_

_He strung them all along_

_He organized a fight_

_Against his tortured friend_

_Knowing that his housemates_

_Surely would defend!_

"Oh, God!" Michelle moaned, but had to laugh, as George began to dance around the kitchen, staying just out of her reach.

_So it happened for them_

_Four good friends for all_

_CJ, Teddy, Alf and Eileen_

_Would answer to the call_

_They'd not stand a bully_

_Or turn away a friend_

_They'll be there for each other_

_Right up until the end!_

"You...are...incorrigible!" Michelle burst out, finally grabbing on to him, and watching as the baby giggled with glee at his parents. "Freddo, don't listen to a word your father is saying, he is a crazy man! He'll have you in detention for all seven years of your schooling!"

"You knew what I was when you married me, _crazy woman_!" He wrapped his free arm around her and kissed her deeply, momentarily rendering her speechless. Once he was sure he'd gained the upper hand, he winked down at her. "C'mon Shell, admit it, you were a little proud of Alf flattening that boy, hm?"

"George..."

He kissed her again, taking his time before he let her come up for air. "Admit it." He whispered, challenging her.

"Oh, alright." She sighed, rubbing his back and giving him a wry smile. "I was pretty impressed, actually. Nice left hook."

"_Left_ hook? Now I'm even more proud!" He bounced Freddo once more and raised eyebrows at Michelle. She laughed and backed way.

"Forget it, George. You've got Freddo all wound up now; you'll be lucky if you get him to sleep within two hours." She teased

George sighed dramatically, but went upstairs with his son, still humming under his breath while Freddo tried to whistle along.

WWWWWWW

Two more days of school left before the summer break, and Alf's last day in detention. Teddy and CJ were in the library, finishing up some last minute work. Teddy watched as CJ poured over some copious notes that he'd been taking during the tutoring sessions he'd set up with Master Morgainne. Quietly, Teddy closed his book, and taking a bit of parchment, wrote out a note to CJ, passing it over.

_This about that problem that you can't tell anybody about?_

CJ blinked, paled, and nodded once.

Teddy nodded, as if to say he'd expected as much. He added another line.

_You helped me. Let me help you._

CJ hesitated. He met Teddy's eye head on, and he wanted so badly to say something, to maybe write something. But there it was again…the constricting throat, the rapid pulse, the knowledge that death was around the corner even at the stroke of a pen. Teddy saw his distress, and grabbed the parchment back.

_I know you can't tell me everything. But give me something. You and Alf figured out what was bothering me with very little to go on. I can do that too. Just…something._

CJ trembled slightly. He wrote his own note.

_Think about oaths. About wizard divorces. About what's behind them. And then go farther than that._

Teddy frowned. It was confusing…he knew CJ wasn't married, obviously; nor could he be looking to have someone else get divorced. But it was a start. Clearly there was something about oaths and breaking them…and somehow it applied to whatever mess CJ had himself in.

"Right. Got it." Teddy whispered, then winced at the scathing glare from the library monitor.

_It's a start._ He wrote back.

CJ's color started to return to normal, and his breathing regulated. Teddy felt relieved; for a moment it had looked like CJ would faint. Heck, CJ had almost looked like he was going to stop _breathing_. But now Teddy saw the hint of a smile.

_Ceej…you, me, Alf and Eileen…we're a team. We'll get through this. Together._

CJ responded.

_I don't think I could get by without you guys. _

Teddy smirked back. _I learned the hard way…you don't have to._


	18. Ch 18 Changes

The end of the year feast was bursting with excitement. In a tight and hard fought battle, Gryffindor had narrowly edged out Ravenclaw, though Ravenclaw had won the Quidditch cup. Alf was enjoying the ensuing chaos, as tables broke up and joined each other, students from houses mixing far more than in previous years.

"How are your dish-pan hands?" Eileen asked, coming up beside him. They hadn't seen much of each other the past two weeks, with Alf stuck in detention. She took up his wrist and looked him over, then looked him in the face with an arched brow. He gave her a sheepish grin.

"I don't suppose you'd believe I have an excellent hand salve, would you?" He asked.

"Oh, of course I believe it...do let me borrow some?" She asked, letting go of his wrist and folding her arms.

He laughed. "I am forbidden to say anything, Ei. Please don't ask!"

"Right." She shook her head. "You are the only human being on the planet who Professor Morgainne would ever go easy on, although I'd have not bet on that two years ago. That so-called Weasley charm!"

"She's not going easy on...hey, wait, what do you mean, so-called?" He stuttered out indignantly.

Her eyes twinkled, and she tossed her dark hair behind her. "C'mon, Alf. CJ has charm, in a dark and brooding kind of way. Teddy has charm. You...you're just Alf."

He looked at her, utterly speechless. "_Just_ Alf? What does that mean?" He finally managed to ask.

"Oh, _you know_...you never change...you're just dependable and solid and...just Alf." She drew her eyes together. "My God, you're _hurt_!"

"I am NOT hurt." Alf protested, although he secretly was, and hardly knew why. "But I mean, dependable and solid? That's _it_? You can't even give me good athlete, smart...hell, _something_ more than dependable and solid?"

"Well, sure...but you're _always _a good athlete, and you're _always_ smart. Like I said, dependable, solid, you know, predictable."

Mortified, he would have probably done something exceedingly unpredictable...like bat-bogey hex Eileen in to the next world, if Headmistress McGonagall had not begun speaking. The room turned to face her, and he heard her talking, but was far too pissed off to really pay attention to the words.

_She is __so__ lucky I just got finished with detention on temper, or she'd have bats pouring out of her nose for a week._

"And, students, as another year draws to a close which has seen us with many changes..."

_Although, come to think of it, as a Weasley there isn't anything that's more predictable than a bat-bogey hex._

"And the misfortune of losing one of our professors..."

_But my instinct was to throw that at her, My god, AM I predictable? Stable? Solid? Dependable?_

_BORING?_

_What kind of Weasley AM I?_

"Our students have persevered, weathering the changes and growing into productive members of the Wizarding World..."

_And why on earth does it bother me so much that Eileen thinks this?_

_Hell, she's a Hufflepuff anyway...all boring loyalty and that crap, who is she to tell me I'm nothing better than SOLID!_

At once, he grabbed Eileen's hand, pulled her away from the group, to her quizzical look, and then looking a challenge at her, suddenly ran towards the door, pulling her along behind.

Nobody noticed them...all eyes were on McGonagall...and he darted around several pillars and then out in to the grounds.

"What are you doing, Alf!" Eileen panted out, nevertheless allowing herself to be pulled along over the fields towards the Magical Creatures stables.

Alf gave her a narrow look, never breaking stride. "If I am so predictable, you should know!"

He didn't come to a rest until he got to the stall containing the school Hippogriff, Red Beak, an offspring of the legendary Buckbeak. Breathlessly, and still not sure what had put this in to his head, he bowed low to the animal.

"Alf? Whatever it is I said that bothered you, I take it back!" Eileen said shakily, though she bowed too.

Alf leaned forward to stroke the mild mannered Red Beak, and though everything inside of him was shaking, he saw agreement in the animal's eye, and gathered up his courage. Because it would be so predictable of him to back out now.

Carefully, he un-tethered the beast, and got up on his back, then held a hand out to Eileen, looking a dare to him.

"Alf, NO!" She gasped. "You shouldn't!" Seeing him not move, but just keep holding his arm out to her. "I can't!" She stuttered out.

"You're supposed to be loyal!" He said, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Yeah...well...you're supposed to be smart!" She retorted.

Then, surprising both of them, she took his hand.

They were airborne within seconds.

Hagrid had let volunteers ride Red Beak earlier in their year, under his close supervision of course. Alf had been one of the first to go...Eileen had refused, looking rather sick just at the thought. So though Alf felt fairly confident in what he was doing, he could feel her shaking; he made sure he had a firm grip on her, and he spoke quite calmly.

"It's much safer than flying a broom." He soothed. "Red Beak won't let you fall."

"I don't like brooms, either." She replied, swallowing hard. "And flying a broom isn't against school rules."

They soared over the lake, safely out of eyeshot, and Eileen opened her eyes finally. "Wow." She whispered, as the hippogriff dipped down over the sun-kissed waters.

"Yeah...pretty cool, eh?"

Alf wasn't entirely without reason; they were gone less than five minutes before he turned Red Beak back, landing softly by the stables. He helped her off.

"We are so dead." She whispered, though her eyes were sparkling.

Privately, Alf was now in full blown regret, thinking over the ten thousand things his father would say and do to him if he found this one out...this had been entirely rash and without reason, unlike that punch he'd thrown. Then he considered the chances of his surviving his step-mother and grandfather to begin with, and realized he might not live to face his father's wrath.

"It's my doing. I'll take the blame." He said quietly, as he re-tied the animal.

"I went willingly." She said, chin jutted out. "Well, I ended up willing." She amended

Quietly, and with guilty faces nobody could have missed, they made their way back to the castle.

That is, nobody could have missed their guilt if they had been seen. To Alf's shock, they were un-noticed on their way back to the great hall, and when they got inside it was all laughing pandemonium, with enthusiastic crowds seeming to congregate around Professor Morgainne, who was being hoisted into the air by her jubilant husband.

"What the?" Eileen asked, still shocked nobody had noticed they were gone.

"Isn't it wonderful?" A first Hufflepuff asked Eileen. "I mean, first Professor Morgainne heads up DADA, and now THIS." Seeing Eileen's confusion, the first year frowned. "Didn't you hear the announcement?"

"Of course she did!" Alf said, coming to Eileen's aid, and putting two and two together. "We know she's going to have a baby." He said, sounding as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

For one sickening moment, Alf realized that if he weren't right about what that announcement was, he would be in much, much, MUCH worse trouble. His stomach lurched.

Then the first year smiled. "They're so happy about it!" She grinned. "Didn't Master Morgainne yell loud enough to spook a hippogriff?"

Both Eileen and Alf jumped at the expression, but were saved as Teddy and CJ joined them. "Oi, we tried to get over here earlier, but it's a stampede!" Teddy said. "You lot look breathless."

"Just surprised by the information." Eileen covered, smoothing her hair.

CJ took a little sniff, look like he was going to say something, and then stopped. Professor Morgainne was before them.

"Congratulations, Professor." Alf said, giving her a knowing smile and exceptionally glad for the diversion.

"Yes, Congratulations." Eileen added, with an equally relieved smile.

"Thanks, kids." She gave Alf a nudge. "Matthias, for the record, has forbidden me to touch a cauldron for the next seven months." She smiled again. "So I suggest none of you find yourselves in detention next fall!"

They all laughed, and then found their way to a table to eat and joke together.

It wasn't until the end of the day that CJ got a few minutes with Alf alone.

"What?" Alf said, feigning innocence; his extreme stupidity of earlier in the day (and his extreme luck at not getting caught) never far from his mind.

CJ reached over an pulled a tiny bit of hay off of Alf's robes. "What, exactly, were you and Eileen doing in the stables, eh?"

Alf blushed. "What makes you think I went with Eileen?" He blustered, determined not to get her involved in this.

CJ smirked. "I dusted a bit of hay off of her too. Besides, I know how that stable smells, mate." He looked pointedly at Alf. "Did you two...er...you know?"

"Did we...?" And realizing that what CJ was thinking was much different from 'Have an unauthorized ride on a hippogriff' Alf's face went redder than his hair. "HELL, NO!" He sputtered out. "I mean, I couldn't...Eileen? CJ, she's like my sister...I mean, I know she's not my sister...but no, NO!" He gaped. "Really, CJ...please don't start that rumor!" He pleaded, determined to confess to his real idiocy if it came down to it before causing Eileen that sort of embarrassment.

"I would never start a rumor." CJ looked momentarily wounded, then confused. "But...what _were_ you two doing in the stables?"

Seeing no other way out of this, Alf told him.

CJ went gray. "Are you out of your mind, Alf? Just because she said you were predictable? She calls me a clam all the time, it doesn't make me start spouting off nonsense at the mouth! Did anybody see you?"

"Thankfully, no." Alf admitted.

"Whew!" CJ just shook his head. "You are SO lucky. Coming after that punch, Dad would _kill_ you."

They both came up short, as they realized what CJ had said. Very slowly, Alf grinned even as it was CJ's turn to blush.

"Don't tell him I said that!" CJ stuttered out quickly. Alf raised his eyebrows expectantly, and CJ continued. "Don't be an idiot, Alf...I have no intention of telling him about Red Beak. I never would!"

"I know you wouldn't." Alf gave CJ a more gentle smile. "I don't know what you're so afraid of, though...you don't think Dad would be _upset_?"

"I don't...it's just...please, Alf, don't say anything. It's bad enough that I'd think it." CJ pleaded.

That just confused the heck out of him. "Why is it such a bad thing? Hell, you know we're brothers, Ceej. You are family. What is the problem?"

CJ just looked at him, his dark eyes almost haunted. "Alf...I feel guilty."

Ah. That Alf could understand, sort of. He remembered wrestling with his own guilt, with his feeling that George was a father to him, when in fact he was technically his uncle. He remembered fearing it was a betrayal of Fred, in some strange way, that he wished George were something more. And he knew he'd had to work it out in his own way. Though he was surprised that CJ would feel so conflicted, given what his father was.

"Alright, CJ. Consider _me_ a clam on this one." Alf said, punching his shoulder gently. "And if you ever again suggest I'm snogging Eileen, I am going to have to hurt you."

CJ calmed down a little then. "Right. But no more joy rides, eh? I've never had a brother, and I'd like to keep you alive."

"Because if a fall doesn't kill me, Dad will. Got it." He shook his head. "Really, I don't know what got in to me. Eileen just gets _so_ under my skin sometimes!"

For a second CJ looked like he was going to make a comment, but he just smiled and walked away.

WWWWWWW

Three weeks later, Eileen sat in her room at her house just outside of New Orleans. It was raining outside, and it made her think of Hogwarts and her friends.

Mostly, she was thinking of Alf.

It was funny. Alf had been her buddy from her first day on the train. Good old dependable Alf. With his quick smile and ready wit. He could very easily be anybody's best friend. She'd pretty much always taken that part of him for granted.

Really, she hadn't meant to upset him when she'd joked about his so-called charm. She joked with CJ all the time about his verbosity (because he had none) and with Teddy about his grace (ditto). Now, it wasn't that Alf didn't have _any_ charm, but not the kind of flirt-with-a-girl charm she and her friends were just beginning to appreciate. Why had it bothered him so much?

And why couldn't she stop thinking about that hippogriff ride?

She wasn't sure she would actually have gotten up on that thing with anybody else. But she trusted Alf, implicitly, even when she knew he was being stupid. Somehow she'd known that with Alf, it would all end up alright. And shockingly, it had.

But now she couldn't stop thinking about it, about how safe she had felt when he'd put his arm around her waist, about how he hadn't teased her about what a bad flyer she was in general but just made sure he made her as secure as possible. About how well he just knew her. And about the way the sun had danced on the lake as they'd soared over it.

_Stop it now, Eileen. This is fruitless. Alf is your friend, and nothing more. Don't you go ruining a good friendship with a lot of girly nonsense!_

With effort, she turned back to her potions book, determined to pull an "O" next year, and thinking that there was nothing more effective than the details of procuring fresh worm-monkey dung to get romance out of your mind.

WWWWWWW

George, in a fine state of mind, was in his back rooms, his labs of a sort, going through the most recent details of his very major commission from Eastern Europe, measuring out some special ingredients with caution. He had been made well aware by Percy of his concerns about the project, the fear that George was being used for some nefarious purpose. George had wondered to Michelle later if Perce weren't making up for his abysmal lack of imagination as a child by sending it in to overdrive now.

Funny, he could easily believe that Amos was up to something with CJ, and he was taking great pains to keep an eye on the young man. But he found it positively silly to think that someone could utilize his artistry for plotting the overthrow of a government.

"Uganda?" Michelle had reminded him.

He'd protested…he'd allowed the WheezeWorks to be used as a distraction to rescue Matthias Morgainne; it wasn't like some rocket had gone off and hurt somebody.

Well, he'd just told Percy that he'd count on the officials and bureaucrats to make sure that his products weren't used improperly, and that was that.

"Hey, Dad…" Alf stuck his head in from the doorway; both boys were helping in the store today. "Draco Malfoy's here to see you."

"You mean Mr. Malfoy?" George corrected gently; he was forever trying to keep the boys formal while they were working.

Alf grinned back. "He told me not to announce him like that, said he was afraid you'd think it was his father."

"Ah. Very well, send Draco in then." George got up and wiped off his hands, carefully covering up the more volatile components with spark-proof domed lids.

Draco entered, his face as pale as always, and his face as severe as it had ever been. Only the faintest hint of warmth in his eyes gave hint to the fact that Draco Malfoy had not grown up to be his father's son. "George. I'd heard about your contract; looks like you're planning well ahead."

"It is amazing how fast two years go by." He said, with a shrug. "And I'd like to really put on a show, to be honest; my name will be staked on this production." He motioned in to the tiny office at the back of the rooms, and Draco sat down in a chair opposite him. "How is Scorpius?"

"Alright. I spend as much time with him as possible. Pansy is not exactly mother of the year material." Draco sighed. "I'd like to get him away from her." He paused then, and looked at George with a deep glance, that was full of meaning and yet entirely incomprehensible.

George turned his head to the side. "Divorces are uncommon, Draco. But not impossible. If there are reasons you believe that Pansy might be endangering your son, you could do it."

Draco shuddered. "If only it were that easy. Pansy's family would have a contract on my life before you could blink. There may no longer be death eaters, but that doesn't mean that those who were are now pillars of respectability." Draco snorted. "Case in point, my father would advise me to put her out of my misery. Why he can't get it in to his head that I'm only his son by bad luck I can't imagine."

George was horrified, and yet not surprised. "Well, Scorpius is six, now, isn't he? He will be starting day school this fall, so at least then he will be among children his own age."

Draco actually smiled at George. "If I were a part of your family, that would be true. No _Malfoy_ child would ever be sent to a school in a public setting. I myself was home tutored."

George just shook his head. "How are you supposed to break the cycle, Draco? If you want to break away from the nonsense, how are you going to do it while appearing to bend yourself to it."

Draco looked down at his hands, his smile fading into a slight frown. "Funny thing, George, I've been offered a chance to break away myself. And to break Scorpius away with me. In such a manner that there will be no embarrassment to Pansy, and no way for my father to complain." His eyes met George's with meaning. "Perhaps you know about it?"

Taken aback, George just shook his head. Draco sighed.

"I thought perhaps your father…though he did tell me he would keep it secret until I had decided. I ought to have known he would be completely true to his word." Draco got up and paced within the small space. "Your father approached me, on behalf of Professor McGonagall, to ask if I would be interested in taking on the Potions Master job."

George sat back in his chair, watching Draco pace with amusement. "And are you interested?"

"Hell." Draco turned and stared George down. "It's all I ever wanted, really. I am _good _at potions, always have been, I _get_ them instinctively, the way you do charms. And, what's more, I'm being given the option of bringing Scorpius with me."

"Ah." George was aware of that. "Yes, Professor McGonagall spoke with Michelle the other day. They are starting a day care of sorts; she's come to the conclusion that to attract more younger teachers, they have to have some family friendly options. Michelle will be bringing Freddo with her on the two days a week she'll be teaching."

"Yes, and then you must know about Professor Morgainne as well. And I believe the new Arithmancy teacher has two children. Well, in my case, Scorpius will be allowed to live with me, and I…will be offered the head of Slytherin house."

George couldn't quite understand why Draco was here talking with him about this. Though they had been friendly ever since Draco's work on behalf of Alf, George wasn't sure that they were _friends_. Not on his doing; as far as George was concerned, Draco had saved Alf from the life of a squib, and therefore George would never have turned his back on him. But Draco had made no attempt at anything beyond cordiality. It's as if he wore the name of Malfoy like a brand of shame. "It sounds like it's a perfect chance for you, Draco." George said, cautiously.

"And you want to know why I'm here." Draco read his tone with a wry smile. "Well, George…I trust you. I know you would never be less than honest with me. _Why?"_

George was surprised by the urgent tone of voice. "Why would I be honest with you? Draco, I am a basically honest guy. Though people haven't always believed me."

"No, no…" Draco tore at his hair. "Why did your father…YOUR FATHER…come to me with this offer? Hell, I understand that it was even his IDEA. Why would he DO that?" Draco's voice almost sounded pained.

George shook his head at poor, sad, untrusting Draco. Crossing his arms, he spoke calmly. "Well, quite possibly he was aware, what with your having saved his grandson, that you were good at potions, and then there might be a small _chance_ that he was aware that you had been in Slytherin. And as they were looking for someone to teach potions, and be head of Slytherin house, it just might be that he considered you were qualified."

"Hell!" Draco said. "Your father hates me, George!"

"No, my father hates your father…God, that sounds childish…but he assuredly does not hate you." George reached over for a bottle of firewhiskey and poured out Draco a healthy glass of it; he looked like he needed it badly. "And if you were thinking clearly, you would realize that the fact that my father recommended you for a job that would include frequent contact with his grandchildren means he must in fact be sincere."

Draco sat again, tossing back the drink and then coughing as he choked it down. "Thanks." He gasped out. "It's not really comprehensible to me, you know. By all the rules that I was taught, our families are even…hell, actually, no. Ron saved my life twice, and Alf saved Scorpius. All I did was cure Alf's magical state. I _still_ owe you, not the other way around."

"Draco…I can't quite figure out how to get this through to you, but my family DOES…NOT…KEEP… SCORE! He spoke with slow emphasis.

"Right." Draco huffed out his breath, his bangs raising slightly as he did so. "Right. So…this is all sincere? No strings attached, nothing expected of you?"

"I'd appreciate it if you were a tad more fair than Professor Snape was at his worst, but I'd not call that a string, just a hope." George smiled in explanation. "Alf has a good head for potions himself, and I wouldn't be surprised if he pursued a career as a healer at the highest level. He needs his NEWTS."

Draco gave a little laugh, and then raised an eyebrow. "Of course I will be fair to Alfred." Draco rose and reached out to shake George's hand. He got up to leave, and then looked back at George with a very steady gaze.

"After all, he's not in Gryffindor!"


	19. Ch 19 Clear as Mud

To my loyal readers: I appologize for the update delay. I had a bit of a dilema...I have the end of the story (probably the last seven chapters) all written out, but I had a sizable gap time-wise between the last posted chapter and the beginning of the end (so to speak) and I have been debating for most of the past week of how I wanted to handle that. It took some time, because I wanted to do it right, and so finally I am ready. Here is the next part...enjoy!

#

August 1, 2012

George stood at the doorway of CJ's bedroom, watching the young man unobserved for a few moments. He was deeply lost in his book, chewing on his Quill as he periodically jotted down notes.

It had been an excellent summer with his three boys. Freddo was an amazing little guy, and he reveled in the attention from the two older boys. Alf continued to amaze George with his wit and intelligence, not to mention his general friendliness. And CJ was growing in to a steady, handsome young man, more and more like his brother Cedric. There were still moments of quiet within him, still periods of time when he seemed to mentally go somewhere where nobody could follow. And George, tipped off by Percy and now having had an interesting conversation with Fleur, was beginning to understand those moments better.

CJ spoke without turning his head. "Did you need something, Uncle George?"

George grinned at him and came in, reaching over to stroke the boy's shoulder. "I didn't want to interrupt your summer schoolwork." He proceeded to sit on the bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees and looking at the young man cautiously. "But yes, I do need to speak with you."

"Okay." CJ turned to face him. Seeing how grave George looked, a flicker of uncertainty came over the boy. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Hardly." George said, in as soothing a tone as he could. "Something came to light today, and I thought you should be aware of it." He hesitated a moment, and remembered something Alf had told him once, when George had been prevaricating on a bit of bad news: _The longer you wait to tell me, the worse things that I am imagining._ He grimaced. "It sort of concerns your father."

CJ sighed. "It usually seems to." Then his eyes went dark and stony. "I don't have to go home to him, do I?"

George was immediate. "Over my dead body, CJ." He continued on. "Look, I know what he's like, and I know you don't like talking about the things he put you through, and I can respect that. But CJ, I'm concerned that he may have done things to you that you're not even aware of."

CJ's face had relaxed at George's immediate denial, but became wary again quickly. "Quite possibly."

"Right. Anyway, I know he's tried to use you for his own purposes. You know you can come to me for anything, CJ, and I will not turn you away." George said the last line with as much force as he could, even as he reached over to grab CJ's hands.

CJ blinked. "I do come to you with anything that I can."

"I'm sure you do." George smiled thinly. "Anyway, something came up with your Aunt Fleur today...something out of what she's working on at St. Mungo's." George waited, watching, to see if Alf reacted to even the words of the hospital's name. There was no sign of agitation whatsoever from the boy, which relieved George a little...it meant that CJ wasn't aware of his father's master plan. He continued on. "CJ, when Michelle came down with birth fever, she was only the second case they'd seen in fourteen years. And the reason they kept Freddo away from me was because of the circumstances of that instance."

"Right. Bloke went mad with grief and tried to kill the baby." CJ nodded, having heard the story many times. "Not something you would have done in a billion years." He added.

"Right." George took a deep breath. "Anyway, while Fleur was doing some investigating, she came across those old case files." Fleur's voice came back to him from their hurried discussion.

"_George...eet was a shock to me. I 'ave known you took CJ in because 'is father waz a monster...but I 'ad no idea what a BEAST he waz!"_

"CJ..." George looked at him carefully. "That case...was YOU. You were that baby. It was your mother stricken with fever. It was your father who tried to kill you." He waited, watching, not quite sure what to expect.

CJ actually surprised him with a wry smile. "It's a coincidence, certainly, but you can't call it shocking. It may have been the first time, but it was hardly the last."

Something about CJ's calm acceptance of the entire situation nearly broke George, and he got up and hugged CJ close to him, wanting to somehow go back in time and erase all of the bad things that had happened to the boy in his past. CJ returned the hug, but looked up at him slightly confused. "I'm not upset." He pointed out, quite calmly.

"I am." George retorted, slightly shaky. "I'm upset that this is so normal for you." He squeezed CJ harder. He remembered Cedric Diggory from days at school, from days of youth Quidditch. George had been envious of him once...not only of his good looks but at the wealth that Cedric, in life an only child, had at his fingertips. Hindsight being what it was, he was glad indeed to have been born a Weasley.

Hard to imagine that Cedric's little brother would have a childhood so entirely bereft of every comfort Cedric would have known.

"G'on, gerroff me!" CJ pulled away, giving George a sad smile. "I'm okay, _really_. I appreciate that maybe you didn't want me to find out from someone else, but I'll be fine."

"Right. Right." George ruffled CJ's hair, and left him back to his books, feeling a little better. But just a little. He walked out of the room, now musing over his subsequent conversation with Percy.

"_...Fleur told me Amos Diggory's exact words were that St. Mungo's would rue the day they had crossed his path. If it took him ten years or twenty, he would find a way to exact his revenge on them...__**and his boy with him!**__" George had pulled Percy aside and given him the lowdown of what his sister-in-law had uncovered. Fleur had been shocked, but she had not understood just exactly what she was revealing._

"_That's it then." Percy's eyes grasped what George was telling him. "That's what Diggory's after...he wants to destroy St. Mungos, and in some way he's going to use CJ to do it."_

"_Obviously." George nodded sharply. "I'm going to broach it generally to see if it means anything to him."_

"_Be careful." Percy warned. "CJ might not even be aware of it, but you could trip some trigger that could set him off."_

"_Well, at least we know what we're working towards."_

George sighed, and stopped in the nursery before continuing downstairs. Alf was in there, holding Freddo on his lap, and reading to him from a muggle story-book, Green Eggs and Ham. Freddo just stared up at Alf with complete adulation.

"I do so like green eggs and ham!" Alf was reading, emphasizing each word. "Thank you, thank you, Sam I am!"

"Ga!" Freddo said, grinning widely.

"Sounds perfectly revolting to me." George put in.

Alf rose, carrying Freddo on his hip towards his Dad. "Oh, I bet you could come up with a perfectly acceptable version." Freddo gurgled and reached over to George, who picked him up from Alf. "A little dill, maybe some thyme in the scrambled eggs..."

"Mmm." George moved to lay Freddo down in the crib, which caused an indignant protest. "Sorry, kiddo...it is your bedtime!" George tried to look stern, not something which he normally wore well. Particularly when Freddo hit him with his new trick. "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..." He pleaded.

"See, I keep telling Michelle he IS TOO saying Dad!" George beamed proudly, reaching in to tickle him. Alf was winding up the Quidditch mobile. "Say it again, Freddo...Say DAD!"

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

Alf smirked. "Right. You know he also says that to the cat, to the lawn gnomes, to the table leg..."

"Don't rain on my parade." George nudged Alf gently.

They stood side by side for a few minutes, George singing in a low voice to the baby, who despite all efforts, finally closed his eyes dozing off. George draped an arm around Alf as they backed quietly away.

"He's going to miss you when you get back to school." George said.

"I'll stop by the new daycare when I can." Alf said. "That'll be nice. I'll even bring Rufus by for him to levitate."

George shook his head. "You know, your Gran just told me that apparently that was an old trick of mine when I was a kid."

Alf chuckled. "You and Miss Shell are getting rather competitive over this, you know." He looked over towards the other bedroom door. "CJ okay?"

"Yeah." George pulled Alf towards his own room, and shut the door behind him. "Alf, has CJ told you about anything that's going on with him? I hate to ask you to betray a confidence, but..." George let his voice trail off.

Alf was frowning in thought. "I would betray a confidence, Dad, if I though it would help him. Or at least, I'd never agree to keep something secret from you that I knew I shouldn't. Anyway, we've been researching oaths for him, but that's hardly something he keeps secret...it's like he's obsessed with them. But he honestly hasn't given us anything else to go on."

"Got it." George nodded. It made sense...CJ must have some vague indication of what his father had planned for him. Perhaps he was considering that threat at St. Mungo's an oath? "You know if you sense anything strange is going on...you can tell me."

"And I will." Alf nodded. "Do YOU know anything, Dad?"

Fair enough, George thought. "He may not even realize, but it's got something to do with the hospital. Be careful of mentioning the place around him."

Alf's brow drew low. "Really? That seems strange." He shrugged. "Anyway, we'll watch out for him pretty closely, the lot of us. We went through hell last year, _nothing _is going to drive us apart this year!"

George chuckled, kissed Alf on the head, though the boy _would _pull away, and went downstairs.

WWWWWWW

Percy was sitting up late, in his tidy little London flat; his wife and two children safely in bed. He sat before his fire, staring at the dancing flames, completely lost in thought. There was a challenge before him, and he wasn't sure if he, the least brave and most cautious Weasley, was really the right man for it.

All his life, Percy had been the tame one. He hid his fears behind his pomposity and his supposed adherence to rules. Then, as he'd gotten older, he'd let that official persona take him over. He'd betrayed his family, his _father_, everything that he ought to have held dear, because he believed that they had never appreciated him. He'd received validation from the ministry, the reinforcement that risk taking was bad, to be squashed down, that the way to live was to follow the rules and never, never ask questions.

He'd learned. Boy, had he learned. But by the time he had, he'd been far too enmeshed in the savage nightmare of those last days of Voldemort. He'd struggled, and finally freed himself, joining his family, only to be standing by Fred's side when...

Percy blinked. Fred, his little brother, laughing at his joke; Fred suddenly gone, eyes glassy and unseeing, his mouth frozen in his last laugh. And George...George left in shock and agony, devoid of life himself...George confronting Percy later with cruel words that were only a tenth as harsh as Percy believed he deserved.

They'd gotten past that, somehow. Percy had been determined not to lose George too; and George had in the end not wanted to push Percy away, either. And as time had gone on, Percy had been left to marvel at what George was capable of, at his thoughtfulness, at his capacity for love. Even to love Percy, when he by rights ought to hate him.

Years had not been able to make Percy forget that he'd been such a failure. Oh, well and good for George to tell him that it didn't matter, or for the family to act like that he'd never abandoned them at all. It had never...quite...changed what was inside of him, the feeling that no matter how much he atoned, it would never be enough.

Until now.

Now. Now, Minister Shacklebolt had needed someone on the inside to work the Eastern European angle. Someone who could manage to pass as a muggle if needed. Someone with cunning and deception at their fingertips. And he knew just the man.

He was going to tap Harry Potter.

Percy had put a stop to that thought before it even started. With a startled Shacklebolt gaping at him, Percy repeated, forcefully, that the ministry had used Harry Potter quite enough for one man's life. Harry had damn near sacrificed his childhood at Cornelius Fudge's altar. He'd actually been willing to die to save those he'd loved. At what point did one say, "Enough. You've given enough for the wizarding world."

Particularly when he, Percy, had never been asked to give very much at all.

It had taking persuading. But, as Percy pointed out, cunning and deception had never really been Harry's hallmarks. He was a seeker on the quidditch pitch, but had gone through the war more like a beater, bludgering his way to his ends. He didn't lie well, or willingly. He didn't like to play games. Harry was all about strength and bravery and honor. It was Percy who'd mastered cunning and deception.

Well, he'd had to. After Fudge left, in the days of Scrimgeour's ministry, he'd started learning to play the game; to hide his feeling and emotions behind what it was expected he'd say. Others thought him a lackey, an arse-kissing ministry loving prat (oh, Fred!) but only he knew what thoughts were beneath his exterior.

Once he'd pointed that out to Shacklebolt, the man had actually agreed. And now, two days a week, Percy took a nip of polyjuice that turned him in to Ivan Presliezevic. An Eastern European squib who had inroads to the inner workings of the revolt. Who was often in the establishment inhabited by Amos Diggory. Who heard much but was suspected of knowing little.

It was dangerous. Percy was beginning to appreciate that more and more. And he had a wife and two children who he loved dearly. But no longer was he afraid of taking action. He _needed_ to do this; needed to do this for George, and the child he'd practically adopted, needed to do this for Fred, who should have lived to know the child he'd sired, needed to do this most of all for himself, to be able to finally look in the mirror each morning and not see regrets.

Percy Weasley was not being cautious anymore.

WWWWWWW

August 28

CJ, Teddy and Alf had piled in to a compartment on the Express, all eagerly chattering with each other about the summer, although since they had by and large spent it together, it was not so much reminiscing as re-hashing. Teddy had, after much thought, decided to go out for his own house team, and given that the previous year's Gryffindor team had held five seventh years, figured he had a pretty good chance.

"That means all of us will be in competition with each other." CJ observed. "Should make an interesting house cup this year."

"All of us except Eileen...poor girl flies like Aunt Mi!" Teddy grinned widely. "Where _is_ she, anyway? It's almost time to leave!"

The three of them got up and tried to cram their heads into the window at the same time, resulting in a flurry of "Ow!" "Geroff!" "Mellon-head!" and other exclamations, until they settled in to the space, the lanky Teddy forcing Alf and CJ into lower corners of the window.

"Oi, there she is!" Alf spotted her first, rushing along the platform with her trunk, looking breathless. A tall, good looking young man was just behind her, and her father brought up the year. "Who's that with her? A cousin, you think?"

As she reached the train, she turned to the young man, giving him a little smile; he reached down and kissed her.

There was dead silence in the compartment; slowly, and all at the same time, the three of them backed away from the window, and settled in shocked silence on to the seats.

CJ braved speaking first. "Not a cousin, I'd guess."

"You think?" Alf said, a bit shortly. Then, he shrugged. "Wonder if he's a student here?"

"He didn't have a trunk." Teddy observed. "And I've never seen him about."

Silence once more. Just as a long, drawn train whistle sounded, Eileen, with a slight blush on her face, stumled in to the compartment. "Hey, Guys."

All three boys stared at her for a long moment.

"What? Have I got something on my face?" She asked, confused, digging in her bag for a mirror, and checking it self consciously.

"Are you wearing makeup?" Teddy blurted out suddenly.

Stunend, Eileen looked up. "Oh, is _that_ what you're staring at me for." She blushed a little as she put the compact away. "Just some lip gloss. Mum decided I should stop looking so pale." She laughed a bit.

"So...was that your boyfriend outside?" Alf asked, giving her his usual calm smile.

She blushed even more deeply. "Oh, er...you saw? That's Prescott...I met him at a mixer this summer."

"_Prescott?"_ Teddy's voice dripped acid.

Eileen blinked in surprise. "Yes, Prescott. He's from Baton Rouge, and he's in the sixth year at Lumieres, but they don't start for a few days...and he asked if he could, um, see me off."

Teddy snorted, earning a confused look from CJ and a glare from Alf. "Too bad you didn't get here earlier, it would have been nice to meet him." Alf said, quite calmly.

CJ coughed, Teddy crossed his arms and turned back towards the window, but Eileen turned a grateful glance to her steadiest friend. "He would have liked to meet you all. Unfortunately your Uncle Percy wasn't on duty at the international entries portal, and the witch on duty was a royal pain in the butt!" She relaxed, and accepted a cookie from a tin that Alf offered her. "So...I want to hear all about how Freddo's doing. Has he started levitating livestock yet?"

Alf leapt into conversation immediately; CJ joining slowly, and Teddy not at all.

WWWWWWW

CJ grabbed hold of Teddy first as they all vacated the train. "Why are you so pissed off at Eileen?" He asked, confused.

Teddy fumed, folding his arms over and falling in to step beside CJ. "She's just so...different. So...girly."

"Well, she IS a girl, Ted." CJ pointed out, fighting back a grin.

"And this Prescott dude...what a stupid name!...we don't know anything about him. I mean, if it were a mate from here, I could understand, but, bloody hell, he's a _sixth year._ You know what _they're_ like. What if he _tries something_!" Teddy kept fuming.

"If he 'tries something' on Eileen she will hex him into the next planet. Have you _seen_ her when she's pissed off? Besides, he's in New Orleans. He's not much likely to try anything from that distance."

Teddy just kept scowling darkly, and finally CJ gave up on him and routed out Alf. Alf had been walking with Eileen until a few seconds previously, when she'd darted off to her own housemates. "You seem calm." CJ observed.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Alf said, appearing honestly confused by the question.

CJ kept his eyes fixed on Alf's face. "You're not upset at all that Eileen...our Eileen...appears to have a boyfriend?"

"No. Are you?" Alf gave him a funny smirk.

"Hell, no." CJ said at once, thinking of Liv the moment Alf made the comment.

"Good. Now, why would I be?" Alf smirked a little more prominently.

"Well, because...I mean..." CJ was playing over that dream of his in his mind. "Well, shouldn't you be, after that whole hippogriff thing?"

"Shhhhh!" Alf looked around, slightly freaked out. "We don't mention the 'H' word, Ceej. And NO, I told you at the time that snogging her would be like snogging my sister." CJ felt his face flush, considering his growing feelings for Alf's sister, but Alf didn't notice. "Really, it's like you WANT us to hook up. One of us hooking up with her would probably be a bad idea anyway, really; totally ruin the group dynamic." Alf chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip, turning his head slightly to the side. "Really, this is much the best...a boyfriend on another continent. She can have her romance, and it won't disrupt any of us in the least. Remarkably sensible of her, actually."

"Right." CJ shook his head, utterly amazed that Alf couldn't see what was right in front of him. The two of them just belonged together; any idiot could see it. Hell, even Teddy seemed to be reacting to it.

Any idiot but the two of them, apparently.

"There's Professor Malfoy." Alf nudged CJ. "Your new head of house. Should be a big improvement for you over Grainsworth."

"Anything would be." CJ admitted, forcing his confused thoughts out of his mind. "And I better go join my lot. You sure your okay?"

Alf gave CJ a look of death, and with a shrug the young Slytherin headed off to his housemates.

WWWWWWW

Later that evening, Alf sat on his bed, Rufus purring contentedly beside him, the curtains that surrounded him shielding him from view of his housemates.

_Was he okay?_

Of course he was. Of course it didn't matter that Eileen had a boyfriend. Bound to happen eventually; when he reminded himself that Eileen was actually a girl, he could admit she was turning out to be fairly pretty. Maybe a bit more than fairly. But, anyway, he didn't usually think of Eileen as a girl. She was just Eileen.

But who knew Teddy had a crush on her?

Really, that had shocked him on the train more than anything. Teddy getting upset like that. But there was only one reason he would, right? And it kind of made sense, he supposed; the two of them were always bickering in a friendly kind of way. Kind of like Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. And that wasn't what he wanted, anyway, that sort of bicker-fight-makeup relationship. He wanted what Dad and Miss Shell had, which seemed to be so much more built on understanding. They were perfect for each other, and that's what he wanted.

Like, how Eileen understood he was worried about Miss Shell having kids some day, and how she knew not to tease him about it, but just to let him realize himself what was bothering him. Like how she immediately got him when he was plotting the toilet seat theft, and even helped by figuring out how to shrink them to keep them hidden. Like how she actually trusted him enough to get up on that Hippogriff, even though she was scared to death of flying. He wanted to find someone like that, only not, obviously, Eileen.

Well, so, Teddy has a crush on Eileen. Bad news for Victoire, but then Victoire seemed to be regarding Teddy more like a cousin than a future boyfriend ever since the incidents of last year. So it really wouldn't bother her that Teddy had a crush on Eileen. Just like it didn't bother Alf. At all. Really.

He huffed and rolled over on his side, earning a disgruntled yowl from the cat, who was now forced to resettle himself. Alf ignored him. _Stupid girlfriend nonsense. __We're too young to be dating yet, anyway!_ He thought, grumbling. Well, at least Teddy wasn't going to be able to date her either, since she had a boyfriend.

_Prescott. Stupid name. Bet he's a real jerk._

Still grumbling, Alf finally fell into a rather disgruntled sleep.

WWWWWWW

Teddy was equally disgruntled, for entirely different reasons.

_How could she do this to Alf?_

Teddy kept shaking his head. Ignoring the fact that they knew next to nothing about this stupid Prescott bloke, there was the plain fact that Eileen and Alf just belonged together.

Oh, sure, they were both too stupid to realize it. Teddy had accepted at some time over the summer that Alf was completely clueless about how they quietly flirted with each other. I mean, Alf had no idea how she teased him differently than she teased Teddy and CJ, and how he defended her differently from how he defended them. They were PERFECT together, like Uncle George and Aunt Shell, or like Uncle Harry and Aunt Gin.

So why was she dating some stupid American with a funny name? He knew damned well that Alf was acting the way he was because Alf did not yet realize that he was in love with her. But he expected Eileen to know better...she was a GIRL.

CJ understood, though CJ was doing a better job than he was of controlling himself. He admired that; because clearly this stupidity was probably not going to be cleared up in the near future, not with as dense as Alf was. And clearly, he was going to have to learn to be that controlled himself.

But he reserved the right to fume for ONE night, at least!


	20. Ch 20 Growing Families

December 12, 2012

December 12, 2012

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

Amazing how fast this year seems to be flying by. I knew it would be hectic, as we get closer to our heavier work loads, but the work seems to be ratcheting up big time and homework is coming out of our eyelids. Literally, in the case of Harlan; Eileen hit him with the _sweetest _hex when he was teasing her about her boyfriend; he had paper flowing out of his tear ducts for an hour. She only ended up with one day's detention, so it was well worth it.

I am really loving care of magical creatures...I think I would spend every free moment with Hagrid's band of the strange and wonderful if I could. Professor Malfoy looks askance every time I talk to him about the latest and greatest creatures in the stables, and he goes positively ashen if I mention the Hippogriffs (then again, so does Alf). But it's amazing...there's just something so dependable, and non-judgmental, about animals, that I find comforting, in a strange way. Sometimes, I try to imagine making a career out of this; Alf says I should talk to Uncle Charlie over Christmas.

Speaking of Eileen, and 'Prescott', rather to my surprise the group seems to have settled down. Teddy, after a rough week, stopped giving Eileen the cold shoulder, and I've gotten used to the owls she's getting, and the way she blushes a little when she opens them. Alf, more than any of us, seems to have accepted the thing quite in good stride. He hasn't changed a bit towards her. Check that...he has, but in a good way; he's even friendlier with her than before, and the two of them are inseparable sometimes, when they are plotting something. Even, lately, tricks on Teddy or myself, which is damned annoying. With the brains the two of them have we don't stand a chance.

I actually heard the Headmistress say of them to Flitwick that the two of them together were worse then Fred and George Weasley, because they were far more subtle. I repeated that to Alf and I think he nearly grew two inches with pride!

It frustrates me sometimes, though. Because as much as I watch them, I clearly can't see anything more between them than their being good buddies. On the one hand, I can kind of picture how good they would be together, but I'm not sure if that's because I'm trying to force that dream of mine true or not. But on the other hand, the more I watch them, the more I can't see anything beyond a great friendship. It's more Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione, than Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, if you know what I mean. I suppose, given that this Preston person doesn't seem to be going away, that that's just as well for Alf; otherwise he'd be pretty crushed.

Alf, Teddy, Eileen and I together, have really made a lot of headway on oaths. Only, of course, I'm not dealing with an _oath_, I'm dealing with an _unbreakable vow_, which a) I can't tell them, and b) although related, is not quite the same thing. Still, we've put together masses of information that make me feel loads better on the subject. Master Morgainne has pointed me towards a fascinating book of exotic rituals from other cultures that have differing degrees of oaths, and Eileen has presented no less than seventeen different ways a binding oath can be broken. Teddy is joking that we may none of us get owls, but we're all prepared for a career in wizarding law.

Anyway, the thing is, although my problem is still _there_, it suddenly seems more manageable. We saved Teddy. We're weathering Eileen's love-life. Why not this? There are just moments when the four of us are together when I really think I believe that there is nothing we can't accomplish.

Funny thing, though...whenever there is any mention of St. Mungo's around me, one of them abruptly changes the subject on to something...anything...else. Hell, the last time it happened Teddy even turned around and asked Eileen if Prescott played Qudditch.

I'm not an idiot, of course. I remember the conversation Uncle George had with me, and clearly he must have had a conversation with Alf, who naturally would have taken Teddy and Leenie into his confidence. But I can't imagine why they would think that it bothers me, knowing my father tried to kill me when I was an infant. As I said to Uncle George, it was hardly the last time. And although I suppose I must have loved him once, or tried to, the man is nothing to me now, except a source of anxiety and irritation because of the blasted vow. Still, I humor them as much as I can. What harm is there in that?

Ravenclaw absolutely decimated Hufflepuff in Quidditch yesterday, by the way. We narrowly beat Gryffindor a few weeks before, though Teddy is an excellent beater...so Alf and I are eyeing a collision course in the spring when we play each other. I'm not quite sure the team is up to it; Alf is too damned good and our seeker is a second year...but it will be fun no matter what.

We're going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, the lot of us; I want to get some holiday shopping done and enjoy the day. I will become everything that my father isn't; everything that my brother was destined to be, as Victor Krum once told me. And though I can no longer see Cedric, sometimes I feel his presence quite close beside me, and I can let myself believe it will all be okay.

I will do this. For Cedric. And for me.

WWWWWWW

"Got a second, George?"

George looked up at Ron as he entered the inner sanctum; the small area of the overcrowded back rooms that served as his lab. He was surrounded by stuff...every conceivable magical ingredient, in powder and potion form...as he worked out his fireworks plans. Behind him pinned on a wall was diagram number 17 for the current rocket...17 models would seem an ample number, but George planned 200 models, one for each year of the Eastern European Federation's existence. It was, bold, ambitious, and exhausting, which is why he was here an hour before the store opened and vaguely annoyed at the interruption. But seeing Ron's slightly nervous face...the same look his kid brother used to where when he'd approach him and Fred asking for...well, ANYTHING, George melted just a bit. "Sure thing, Ron. Pull up a seat...if you can find one."

Ron gave him a smirk and then transfigured an empty crate into a stool. "Actually, George...that's kind of why I'm here." He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking around. "This place is pretty damned overrun, eh?"

"Very much so." George sighed. The place had seemed huge back when he and Fred bought it; but they had been successful beyond anything even the Weasley twins could imagine.

"Right. Well...I've...er...well, I've done something, George." Ron stuttered out.

George waited, as he watched Ron blush, before he managed to raise his eyebrows. "Congratulations. The last time you'd told me you'd done something with that look on your face, you'd managed to get yourself engaged. What on earth is it this time?"

"Oh...er...the thing is, I'm not sure you'll approve." He muttered, looking even more awkward.

"Why would it matter...hang on, Ron...you're not getting divorced?" George glared at him, even as he gently put down the rather volatile dried grub root extract into a safe container.

"NO!" Ron looked scandalized. "Hermione would KILL me!" Seeing George wasn't reading his mind, he exhaled hard. "I've bought us some land."

"Land. Us. Huh?" George frowned hard, absolutely not following Ron.

"Right. I've...I suppose I should have consulted you first...but I am a partner...I've invested some of the profit in this parcel of land. Pretty isolated, out in the moors, but I thought we could do with a warehouse there. It'll take a while to build, and cost some money, but look around...you need a better lab than a six by ten area surrounded by product. And I know I haven't your brains, not for the creative stuff, but I am a pretty fair business man, George...I am..." George watched as Ron wound himself up, getting up from the stool and pacing. "I mean, I could see what we needed...so when the chance came...I mean, I know it's really your store..."

"It's OUR store." George firmly stopped Ron's waffling. "Our COMPANY, more accurately. So...how much of OUR money did you invest in this land?"

"Ten thousand galleons." Ron exhaled hard and came to a seat again. He pulled out some parchment from his robes and unrolled it. "This is what I was thinking for the warehouse...it will cost another..." He paused. "Um...eighty thousand galleons."

George merely raised his eyebrows again, and took the plans from his brother. Then he gave out a low whistle. "Ron...this is like the bloody Taj Majal of warehouses."

It was true. Built of Vesuvian obsidian it would be absolutely invisible to muggles. It was the size of five American football fields and had one football field of space dedicated to labs, another dedicated solely to volatile research ingredients. The plans called for rows and rows of storage, each specified to the entire gamut of Wheezes products. And there were offices too...a rather spacious one for George, a smaller one for Ron, and an area for a warehouse manager.

Ron was still flustered. "Well...I thought...I mean, I know it's a lot of money, but hell, if we're going to keep growing..."

"Whoa!" George grinned at him. "Last time I checked we made, after you and I paid ourselves respectable salaries, and rather generous bonuses to every employee, a three hundred thousand galleon profit. Which we've reinvested in the company reserves, which are now up to roughly two million galleons. I think a hundred thousand dollars is an acceptable investment." Privately George thought the whole thing was a bit much...not in price, but in scope. Did they really NEED this? Still, Ron had clearly put a lot of thought into it, and he WAS a partner.

"Oh." Ron seemed flummoxed at George's response; clearly he had entered with an expectation of needing a long and drawn out fight to make his point. "Really? I mean, you're okay with this?"

"Almost. I have two requests." Accio'ing a quill, he made a quick change...making Ron's office the same size as his. "We are PARTNERS, Ron. You are not my employee. And two, as my Partner, and the one who had this idea, I am leaving it in your hands to run. You have sole discretion over finding the builders and overseeing the creation, and making sure we're not being ripped off blind by contractors. I haven't the temperament for that sort of thing, and I'd end up in Azkaban if I had to try."

"Right. Blimey...I mean, this could take a year, George, you do know that?" Ron rose quickly, rolling up the plans.

"Eighteen months, I would actually think...that obsidian is hard to come by. Just let me know if we're looking at a cost over-run of more than fifty percent, otherwise, I am leaving everything in your hands." George waved him off. "Now let me get on with what I do best, and you better get started with your own stuff." He watched as Ron made to head back out towards the floor, and called out to him. "Oi, a year from now, don't let me hear you moaning about the whole thing!"

"I won't!" Ron's excited voice called back to him, and George just chuckled, as he returned his mind to Rocket number 17.

WWWWWWW

December 18, 2012

George sat on the floor opposite Freddo, arms outstretched. "C'mon, kiddo...you can do it."

"Daaaaaaaa?" Freddo said, uncertainly, looking from where his hands gripped the edge of the coffee table firmly, to where his father was sitting. Green eyes blinked to his father, who smiled strongly.

"I'll catch you if you fall. C'mon, now...have a go at it!"

Pursing his mouth in determination, Freddo let go, arms out for balance. He put one foot forward...then tried another...then toppled forward into George's arms.

"PLLLLT!" He said, clearly disgusted with himself.

"On the contrary, a very creditable go, young man...that was almost two whole steps!" George soothed, as Freddo sat hard, and then did his rapid fire crawl over towards the doorway.

"ESCAPED CONVICT!" George laughed. "Headed your way, Shell!"

Michelle scooped up her son as she came in to the living room. He gurgled, and then reached around her, trying to grab hold of some evergreen garland recently strung around the house. "Running away and you not even a year old yet!"

"Crawling away." George corrected, rising slowly. "And he'll be a year old tomorrow." He reminded her, as she settled the baby in his playpen, handing him a bottle of juice.

"Like you need to remind me." She joked. "How much longer before you leave to pick up the boys?" She hesitated, then smiled in relief as Freddo seemed to have no objection to the playpen, as he settled in with a stuffed cat that actually purred.

"Bout an hour." He came up beside her, wrapping his arms around her. "Not enough time for what you have planned." He murmured suggestively. "Unless we compromise on quality."

"Ha!" She snorted. "I don't think we have the same plans, George." She turned in his arms, and faced him, kissing him in a decidedly unromantic way. He frowned , sensing that she was rather pensive.

"Shell...what's going on?" He asked.

She took a deep breath. "I just found something out and...well, you should know before the boys get here." She held on to him tightly. "George, I'm pregnant."

He felt his world tip slightly. A year ago the thought of more children...a houseful, even...had been quite a joke between them. Privately he'd always assumed they'd at least one more. Until, that is, Freddo's dramatic birth last year. She'd nearly died. And just remembering that made his knees buckle, and his mouth go dry.

He felt her lead him to the sofa, and rest his head on his lap. "I was afraid of this." She murmured. "George, I can't imagine it's likely that birth fever would strike twice."

"Right." He quivered. Realizing it, and _knowing _it were two different things. "How far?" He asked.

"Just two months. I wasn't even sure until this morning." She said, holding his hands tightly. "George, look at me."

He forced himself to do what she asked.

"Where would you be without your siblings, George?" She pointed out gently. "If you had been an only child...or even one half of a set of twins, where would you be without the others?"

George shook his head slightly. "Freddo isn't an only child, Shell...he has Alf; and CJ, too."

"Right, both of whom are fourteen years older than he is...quite nearly fifteen. How close are you to Bill, George, and that's only, what, eight years?" She added, coming to sit next to him on the sofa. "I was an only child, George; it has its advantages, sometimes. But with my parents dead, and then being just nineteen when I lost my aunt, I was left with nothing. I don't want that for our son, George. I want him to have family."

George gave half a laugh. "Right, and five hundred cousins isn't enough?" Seeing Michelle look hurt, he then held her hands tight. "Sorry. It's just, Shell, that I can't bear the thought of losing you. It's got nothing to do with not wanting another baby..." He saw her face still falling into sadness. "Of course I want the baby...I'd love a girl, in fact, a miniature version of you toddling around and terrorizing Freddo." He saw Shell blink back tears, and held her, swallowing hard. "Just don't leave me, okay? I know you can't promise, but just know that I need you. ALL of your boys need you."

"Oh, George...I know. I do know." She sniffed once. "But I want you to be happy about this...as happy as with Freddo. The baby will KNOW if you're not, I'm convinced of it!"

"Hey!" He kissed her nose, and then her neck, and then her still smooth and flat belly. "Hear this, baby, your Dad loves you very much...just like he loves your Mum. Be good to her, eh?"

"George." She giggled a little; the kiss tickled. "The baby's no bigger than a thimble right now!"

He sighed, and smiled up at her. "We'll be okay, Shell. I will be happy...I AM happy. A July baby...maybe in time for Harry's birthday, hm? And the boys home to help out...couldn't be better." He felt giddiness starting to set in, replacing the fear and terror that had first hit him. "Mum will go bats, you know...she's never quite accepted that none of us will break the seven child barrier."

"Ack! I draw the line there! Maybe another one after this...but that's it...given how active Freddo is, and that your Mum says he's an absolute angel compared to you!" Michelle laughed shakily. "You really are okay?"

"Better than okay...let's just wait a day or two to tell the boys, hm?" He winked at her. "I rather like being one up on them."

"Deal." She laughed up at him. "Shall I stay here with Freddo?"

"Please...given how I've been working lately, this may be my only chance at doing your Christmas shopping." He looked at her, wondering how he hadn't noticed that she was slightly pale and that her appetite was off...or was he seeing things after the fact? "I do love you. ALL of you. BOTH of you."

WWWWWWW

He actually had no intention of waiting until later to tell the boys. He had been afraid they might react like he had, and wanted to steel them against it before having a similar scene as that morning repeated with his wife. He knew how deeply they both cared about her and that they would fear losing her; likewise, he wondered if Alf would have any, well, flashbacks to his fears about being replaced. Though he rather doubted it now.

He listened, with some amusement, to their stories about school and their antics, as they settled in for a burger at the Leaky Cauldron; George had driven to the London pub after picking them up, under the guise of needing to do some shopping in Diagon Alley. They were well into burgers when Alf spoke up.

"What's on your mind, Dad? You're not half listening to us. Trouble with the fireworks?" Alf asked, as he poured malt vinegar over his fries.

_Right, here goes._ George took a deep breath. "Boys…I have something to tell you….Miss Shell is pregnant."

Both CJ and Alf paused mid-bite to stare at him.

He continued on, explaining his own fears, and indicating he could understand they would have their own; it was only natural after all, given what had happened last year at St….he caught himself, blinked at CJ, and said, well, anyway, after everything that happened last year. Of course, Miss Shell would quite probably be alright, but in any event she didn't need to be upset, which was why he was telling them now, because it would hurt her if they weren't totally happy about the baby, and it was very bad for pregnant women to get upset, she could end up in the hospit…he paused.

"The hospital." CJ said, with a slight edge to his voice. "You CAN say it, you know. St. MUNGOS. I'm not that barmey, or anything…"

George was taken aback. "I never said you were, CJ. I just don't want to be a reminder of…well…" He paused again.

CJ bristled. "ST. MUNGOS." He said more forcefully. "Why is everyone so darned afraid to say it? I stopped expecting anything decent from my father a long time ago, but it's not like I'm fragile about it. You act like I'm two."

"CJ!" George was actually quite wounded, and at the same time afraid to explain himself. "You cannot be angry at me for wanting to spare you pain."

"WHAT pain?" CJ shook his head. "It doesn't bother me. It DOESN'T."

Alf had been following the exchange in some surprise. "If you two are done being stupid…" He finally interrupted, and both George and CJ turned to him. "Let's get back to the main point, which is that Miss Shell is pregnant. But Dad…she can't get birth fever again."

George just blinked at Alf. "I know we both want to believe that, and I gather it is unlikely."

"Not unlikely, impossible. Master Morgainne said so." Alf, seeing George's disbelief, grinned at him. "You do know Professor Morgainne is due any moment?" George just nodded once. "Well, she was upset one day, scared about the baby, and I happened to overhear him tell her it was almost absurdly unlikely to get birth fever."

"Right. But Miss Shell has already done that once." CJ asked, now calming down.

"I KNOW." Alf shrugged. "Well, I was curious, now that I thought about it, and I asked Master Morgainne if Miss Shell would be immune to having it happen again. He thought it over and said he rather believed she would be. Like with muggle vaccinations."

"Vacci-what?" George came up short.

"Vaccinations. Muggles fight a lot of diseases by giving you a shot that sort of mimics the disease, makes your body fight it off, and then your body can't get it again. What, didn't you lot have to have any shots growing up?"

"Shots." CJ said, looking at him in almost horror. "They would shoot something at you, like with a muggle GUN?"

"No, no…with a needle." Alf shook his head. "Ask Miss Shell…she would have to know. But she might not have thought…the fever, Master Morgainne says, would have acted the same way."

"How did he know this, though?" George was surprised.

"Because although it's muggle, it is in use in some of the African cultures. They still have a much higher rate of infectious diseases there." Alf took a bite of his burger. "Have her speak to him about it, but I am quite sure she will be fine. Better than you, anyway." He looked with meaning at his father.

"What? Why better than me?"

"Two toddling Freddos running about? Good luck!" He smirked.

CJ sighed, though. "This is going to put a crimp in our Christmas plans, I think."

Alf paused. "OH."

George, still trying to digest everything that he'd just been told, turned back his attention in full to the boys. "What plans? You haven't stolen any more toilet seats?"

"Hardly." Alf grinned at him. "But I was thinking, I've got Rufus at school with me most of the time…" Harry had agreed to take Rufus back to Godric's Hollow with him so they could go shopping. "And, well, you need a pet. We were thinking it might be nice to get Miss Shell a dog."

George didn't speak for a moment, and in the silence CJ continued on. "Alf's told me all about the first Rufus, back in Salem, and how great he was. And I thought it's been a while…you can never replace a pet right away, but eventually if you're an animal person, well, you need an animal."

"Right." Alf finished. "But with Miss Shell pregnant, maybe now's not the time…"

"It's an EXCELLENT idea!" George beamed as the force of it hit him. "We'll get her the stuff, like a dish and the leash and everything, and then go with her right after Christmas to a shelter…she'll want a shelter dog, that's what Rufus was." He put money down on the table, rose, and gave both boys a squeeze on the shoulder.

A dog. A cat. A toddler. Two teens and a baby. Any other man might be feeling overwhelmed.

George suddenly felt he couldn't be luckier.

WWWWWWW

Alf looked in on him later that evening; it was nearly 10 pm and he was still tinkering with his wizard television, which he was continuously trying to perfect.

"You okay, Dad?"

"Fine." George beamed at him. He was flush with the surprise they were planning for Michelle, and, after he relayed Alf's information to her (after claiming he'd broken down and told the boys because he was so excited) Michelle herself was considerably more relaxed, although she vowed to speak with Matthias at the first chance. "Why do you ask?"

"You and CJ have been a tad formal tonight." Alf smirked. "You had your first fight." There was a faint bit of teasing there, and George felt himself blushing.

"When you put it that way, it sounds stupid. I'm just trying to protect him." He said, lamely.

Alf laughed, and sat across from him. "And on some level I'm sure he knows that…he gets annoyed with us, too, when he catches us pretending St. Mungo's doesn't exist." Alf turned his head slightly to the side. "You should be happy."

"Why?" George frowned. "I don't like fighting with him."

"You don't like fighting with me either, but we have." Alf pointed out. "And we've survived." George didn't quite get what Alf was driving at, and the boy sighed deeply. "Alright, I'm going to tell you something that you absolutely cannot repeat to him…but there have been a few times, when only I can hear, that he slips and calls you dad."

George felt his breath hitch, and felt a warmth in his chest. "But…well, I'm okay if he does; I wouldn't have thought he'd want to…"

"I don't think he could to your face." Alf was thinking. "That would remind him too much of Amos. But my point is, in my mind he's stopped thinking of Amos as his father. Don't know when it happened, but I'm pretty sure he has. Anyway, what I'm saying, badly, is that he argued with you. Because he knew you wouldn't go off the deep end or anything. He trusts you."

George felt something slip off his shoulders then. "Heh. I've thought of him as another son for so long that I forgot that, well, it would be harder for him."

"I think it happened so gradually he didn't even notice." Alf got up, and looked down at George's diagram. "Number 21?"

"In a series of 200." George let out a wan laugh. "I've bit off more than I can chew, I'm afraid."

"A Weasley admit defeat? Never!" Alf winked at him. "CJ and I will help this summer. You'll ace that contract and finish the fireworks."

"We will together." George winked at him. "Assuming I decide to let you anywhere near them"

Affecting to be insulted, Alf threw his head back and walked dramatically from the room, to the sounds of his father's laughter.


	21. Ch 21 Evolving

March, 2013

March, 2013

"Who's the letter from?" Alf looked over to Eileen, sitting at their table, but lost in her own world.

"Huh…oh, it's nothing." She said quickly, putting it away in her rucksack even as Teddy and CJ joined them.

"From _Prescott_?" Teddy asked, his voice dripping.

CJ elbowed him hard, and Alf glared…generally they tried to pretend that Eileen's boyfriend didn't exist. Every now and then Teddy slipped up with a snarky remark, and generally Eileen turned around and gave as good as she got.

Not this time. This time she slammed her glass down and, blinking hard, rose quickly, taking her bag with her. "As a matter of fact, yes. _Prescott _has grown tired of a long distance relationship, if you must now, and he is currently dating some dumb southern witch named Laila May Barnes. Not that YOU care, Teddy Lupin!" And with a huff, she turned away, and then ran out of the hall.

Teddy flushed brightly. "Oi, I didn't mean anything by it!" He called after her, and went to follow himself.

"Sit." CJ dragged him down. "She's not going to want male company at the moment."

Alf stared between CJ and Teddy, and then out the door where Eileen had departed. With a sigh, he picked up his own bag, and dodged out of CJ's grasp.

"Not even your company, Alf!" CJ warned. "You're risking your life."

"Right. Explain to Dad if I don't make it back alive." He replied, jogging lightly after Eileen. Part of him suspected CJ was right, and the last thing that Eileen wanted was a guy around, even one of her friends. But then, it was pretty clear that Alf, to her, was a friend, and not a guy. At least not usually.

WWWWWWW

He caught up to her under an old willow tree by the lake, where she was sniffling quietly to herself. She shot him a glance of death that would have scared away anyone else. But Alf just went ahead and sat beside her. After a moment, he conjured up a box of tissues and handed it over to her.

"Thanks." She sniffed, then blew her nose loudly.

"Easy…I've never heard about cutting off your nose to spite your boyfriend." He quipped, hoping to get a laugh from her.

He didn't succeed. Eileen merely drew herself together, and wiped at her eyes, as she resumed a glassy stare over the lake. "I knew it wouldn't work." She said, sadly. "We liked each other a lot last summer, but he's so much more mature than I am. Why would he want me?"

"Don't be an idiot." Alf said. "And don't go fishing for compliments, because you know the only way I can answer that is to give you the whole laundry list about how wonderful you are and that's just going to make your head swell. Your nose swelling is bad enough." He nudged her gently, and this time at least she cracked a smile.

Seeing her at least listening to him, Alf continued gently. "'Sides, Ei, it can't really have been much of a relationship? You're here, he's there…you saw him for just a few weeks over Christmas, and you'd have seen him for what, a week over Easter? I mean, that's not really dating."

"I know." She admitted, shrugging. "Actually, Alf, mostly I forgot I had a boyfriend. But it was nice…I was the only girl in my year in Hufflepuff who had a guy. I mean, it was a big deal with the other girls." She frowned suddenly. "I've never understood why it's always bothered Teddy so much though. Why does _he_ always have to be such a wise-ass about it?"

Alf felt his face grow warm, and he reached over and squeezed her arms. "Eileen…you can guess, I'm sure."

She turned puzzled eyes to him, her lips pursed in thought. "No, actually, I can't. Do _you_ know, Alf?"

Alf's face went even redder, but he met her eyes with great calm. "I suspect. Eileen, I think he's…well, kind of, um, fond of you."

It took her a few minutes to process what Alf was saying. Then she blinked as it settled in. "Fond of me? Like a crush?" She said, never taking her eyes from Alf. "You think…you think HE has a crush on me, Alf?"

"I do." Alf nodded, breaking her gaze, which for some reason hurt him. "I've thought so since September. I mean, I know we've all kind of half laughed behind his back that it would end up being him and Victoire no matter what. But still, he took Prescott pretty personally. You know that. Not like CJ and I; I think we got over the initial shock rather quickly." He gave a half hearted smirk to the water, and tossed a small rock into its depths.

A sigh came to his ears. "I don't love Teddy, Alf." Eileen said. "I wouldn't want him to be hurt."

Alf shrugged. He remembered all the little squabbles that Eileen and Teddy seemed to have, and thought she might not realize that she loved him yet, but that didn't mean it might not yet happen. "Personally, I think it's stupid of any of us to be talking about love, and none of us even fifteen yet. Dating is one thing, but really, how possible is it that we're going to find our soul mate at our age?"

He finally forced himself to look at Eileen. "Your parents didn't meet until your Dad was in his forties. And look at Dad and Miss Shell. And Professor Morgainne and her husband…heck, Dad and her would be married if you had to find your soul-mate at school."

Eileen gave him a little smile. "But what about your OTHER parents, Alf. Fred and Katie, I mean."

"Yeah, and look how well that worked." Alf gave a little sigh. "They broke it off so badly Mum never even told him she was pregnant. Besides, there was a war on in those days. Uncle Harry and Aunt Gin, Uncle Ron and Aunt Mi, they're products of what they were living in. They had to grow up fast." He gave her a kind look. "We're lucky, really. We can grow up in our own time."

"I suppose." Eileen sighed. "I'll miss my new found status within the house, but otherwise, well, Prescott could be rather full of himself, sometimes. And we have Owls to think about next year. Probably all in all a good thing."

"There you go." Alf sat back against the tree, the two of them settling into a companionable silence. He got a wicked glint in his eye. "Want to scare the hell out of CJ? Got any bruise powder?"

Which is why, half an hour later, CJ nearly had a heart attack at seeing Alf with two black eyes and his hand over his nose, ostensibly gushing blood, while Eileen stood by triumphantly, waving her wand. Then, as CJ realized he'd been had, he hit Alf with a flying tackle, and somehow when the dust was settled, they managed to each have real black eyes.

"Boys." Eileen sighed, as suddenly CJ and Alf started laughing and comparing the damage.

Teddy had come up beside her, as they watched their two friends digging up bruise cream from their robes. "Um, Eileen…I'm really sorry. That I was an ass, I mean…I can't be sorry that we're rid of Prescott, and it wouldn't work for me to pretend otherwise." He stood cautiously off to her side, keeping an eye on her wand hand.

Eileen threw him a smile that was almost kind. "It's okay, Teddy. I understand."

Teddy blinked. "You…what?"

"I understand." She gave him a very quick pat on the arm. "You're very sweet, but you know, it was all for the best. We're too young to be dating."

"Right. I've said so all along." Teddy stuttered out. "I mean…you're going to curse me when I'm not looking, right?"

Eileen just gave him a very gentle glance, and a sweet smile, and then looked at her watch before heading off to her next class.

WWWWWWW

May, 2013

"What's up with these fireworks, George?" Ron murmured, looking around his brother in the midst of a mass of powders and plans. "Do you really feel compelled to do 200?"

"It's what I pitched." George rubbed his head vigorously. "And it's due in August, and I don't know what I'll do with myself between now and then."

Ron looked about. "I thought it was the Eastern European _Centennial_. You couldn't have made do with 100?"

George gave a rueful laugh. "Stupid me, having listened too much about the whole mess in Europe from Percy. It's the 100th anniversary of the formal ratification of the constitution that set up the alliance. But the actual declaration of their independence from the Russian Federation was a hundred years earlier."

"Touching off a 100 year war…I didn't sleep through ALL of the History of Magic." Ron crossed his arms, and looked about the messy room with a sigh. "But with Michelle pregnant and a baby at home George…this just may not be possible."

George sat back. He hated to admit it, but Ron might actually be right with this one. Though Michelle's pregnancy seemed to be going fine, there was still an active baby at home who was coming up with new and unusual ways of getting in to things, not to mention the wildest beast of a lab-mastiff mix of a hound that had been his wife's Christmas present.

"The boys will be home in a few weeks." George murmured, thinking with great welcome of having CJ and Alf back for the summer. Easter had passed by much too quickly. "They'll help out, I know. And maybe Teddy, too…he's at an age when a part time job wouldn't be a bad idea." George roused himself and looked over at his younger brother. "How's the Ware-majal coming?"

"Stupid contractors." Ron murmured. "But the foundation's set, at least. It really will be a good thing, George." He said, with just a hint of defensiveness. Although George had been nothing but supportive of the project, several of their other employees, and most of their family, had regarded it with pure amusement.

"George…are you there?" Percy's voice crackled through the fireplace.

"Oi, Perce…" George dusted his hands of and came around to the floo to firechat, Ron coming up beside him. "Hell, Perce…what happened to your face."

Percy was sporting a rather large and conspicuous bruise. "Bad meeting. I'm okay though." He quickly went on. "I have a request for you from Minister Filipowski."

"Please tell me he's not moving the deadline UP?" George's voice went up half a decibel.

"On the contrary." Percy gave him a kind smile. "It's been pushed back, about eight months. They want to move the fireworks to June 1 of 2014."

Ron's muttered, "Thank goodness" was drowned out by George's "WHAT?"

"Perce, not that I'm complaining, but the Centennial is in August. Heck, even if you were considering Bi-Centennial, that would be September. Why is the celebration in March…of the following year?"

"You know Filipowski's been having some trouble, George. June 1 is the date of the death of the Martyr that is worshiped by the opposition forces. I think he's hoping if he ties everything together, he can use it to help quell the uprising." Percy met George's eyes with a glance filled with meaning. George knew Percy had reservations about this whole thing,

"Well, I'm going to require it in writing." George said, still shaking his head. "I'm not complaining, but I'd like to know what exactly I'm now creating a celebration for."

"Understood. Filipowski's anticipated you. You should have something owled to you by the time you get home." Percy gave a little nod.

Ron, meanwhile, was still looking Percy's face over carefully. "Those are curse bruises, Perce. What have you been up to?" Ron mused.

George noticed that Percy may have blushed…though it was hard to tell in the midst of a firechat. "It's nothing, Ron. Really. I'm fine."

"Accio bruise powder!" George called out; a small jar whisked its way off the shelves into his hand, and he passed it through the floo to his brother. "Take care of yourself, Percy. Don't let those desk jockeys get to you."

Percy's return smile was rather grim, George thought. Was Percy up to something, after all? _Percy?_

Nah.

WWWWWWW

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Absolutely George's favorite greeting met him as he walked in the door that evening. Freddo was peaking around the corner of the doorway, holding on to the giant mutt they'd adopted by his ears, which fortunately he didn't seem to mind.

"Freddo, one of these days Hagrid's going to get tired of that!" George warned, getting down on one knee and holding his arms out. Freddo giggled and toddled forward to him, "Hagir gooo." He mumbled in what was beginning to be his own personal language.

"Wuff." Hagrid said, coming over to lick George's face, making both father and small son laugh.

"I know Hagrid's good. But even the most patient of us has their limits, Freddo!" George got up, holding his son high, and the dog leaned hard against him.

Michelle, as George had predicted, had been thrilled with the idea of adopting a dog, and just a few days after Christmas they'd found themselves in a muggle animal shelter, with Michelle, and CJ, both wanting to adopt pretty much every animal there. In the end, though, this gentle giant, part golden lab and part mastiff, had stolen their hearts, simply by coming forward and laying his head on Michelle's lap, and looking at her balefully.

There had been two snags. First, introducing the dog, then unnamed, to Rufus, Alf's cat. Rufus had for once acted like a cat, arched his back, puffed up his fur, and tore around the house hissing and spitting. For about five minutes. Then he came forward, clouted the dog on the nose just once; the dog had flopped over on the floor in submission, and Rufus proceeded to curl up on top of him and go to sleep.

"Only _your _cat…" CJ had muttered to Alf.

The other issue had been the dog's name, which was Amos. Just like CJ's father, and so obviously not a name that George wished to have bandied about the house. So for a couple of days they just called him "dog" while debating ideas for names.

On the last day of the break, they'd gone over Ginny's for dinner, and the dog had managed, while playing patiently with James, Albus, and Lily, to knock over a book-case, Ginny's Quidditch trophies, and get cornered in the garden by a lawn gnome.

"I haven't seen anything that awkward since I first saw Hagrid!" Harry had laughed, and the name stuck.

Michelle followed in to the kitchen, now some six months pregnant, although rather larger than the last time, not that George would ever be daft enough to say anything. "You're in early."

"Contract got moved back…meaning I have something resembling a life back." George came over to her and kissed her on the forehead. "Did you make dinner, or should I throw something together."

"Your Mum dropped a casserole by, actually; it's in the oven. She knows how we've both been working, and I think she likes out-cooking you every now and then." Michelle went to get the dishes for dinner, as George settled Freddo in his chair. "Oh, and an owl came for you." She nodded towards the high dining hutch that kept things somewhat out of Freddo's reach.

"I'll look at it later." George murmured. "It's the contract from Filipowski, I have no doubt." George washed up, while Freddo used his silverware as a one-man band. "How are you feeling."

"Ah." She came up beside him. "I had a doctor's appointment, George."

"Shell!" He came up short. "Why didn't you tell me?" He sounded just a bit wounded. "I know I've been working hard, but I still would have been there."

"I know you would have. This was an added appointment…I started suspecting something this weekend." She paused.

George felt fear clawing inside of him. "Is the baby alright?" He stuttered out.

She gave him a determined smile. "Give me your hand, George."

Deftly she guided his fingers over her extended middle. He could feel the kicking, rather a lot of it, more than he remembered with Freddo it seemed. "Baby feels fine." He said, exhaling. "Although we have a real tap dancer on our hands."

"Right. That's just it. I woke up this morning and just wondered, you know…it seemed like an awful lot of arms and legs going on. So, I went to the doctor…" She repeated, and stopped, flustered, then took George's hand. "Here." She moved his hand to the right, to a particularly hard, round spot.

"The baby's head." George said, with an understanding smile.

"Right. But…here…" She moved his hand to the left, to another such spot.

George frowned. "But…that's…not possible?"

"It is." She said, and reached forward and kissed his nose. "If you're expecting twins."

Twins.

Huh?

TWINS?

"I do understand they run in the family." Michelle quipped.

A thousand emotions filled George, at once, and he gave a gasp of surprise, and then pulled Michelle close. "Are you sure?" He asked, trying to feel the baby… babies… between them..

"The doctor is positive. We don't know boys or girls…" She added.

"Or it could be one of each." George said, quickly. He was trembling slightly. "That's…amazing. Amazing." And then, he broke in to a giggling laugh, that broke out louder. "Amazingly perfect!"

"Mummmm…" Freddo held his cup out expectantly. "Mum?"

George turned with a giggle back to his son, as Michelle went to fill his glass. "You are going to be the luckiest big brother in the world, Freddo…two new babies to boss around. Two babies!"

"Baaaaaaaaaaaaabbbbby!" Freddo agreed, pointing at his Mum's mid section.

Twins.

TWINS.

It was wonderful.

It was.

Right.

WWWWWWW

Two weeks went by. The word went round the family, earning shouts of joy and laughter, and owls from Alf and CJ that were filled with excitement. Everyone seemed so thrilled. Names were suggested left and right, all of them variations on F's and G's. Ron offered to design a high security crib; Charlie began warning Freddo of the various hexes he was going to need. It was all perfect.

Yet George still felt unsettled about it all.

Which might be why, on the day he was to go in to London to meet the boys home for summer, he found himself first at the Burrow, visiting his brother's grave.

Though for once he was at a loss for words. It was hard for him to articulate even to himself the strange tumble of thoughts that filled his head once he found out he was to be the father of twins. Absentmindedly he fiddled with the dirt in front of Fred's grave, pulling out weeds here and there. He was going to have twins.

Twins who would, as soon as they could talk, have their own language A language predicated on not always needing words to communicate. They would at times just look at each other, and smile, and understand each other perfectly, and chuckle to themselves because nobody else would know what was going on.

Only, of course, their father would. George would know perfectly well what was happening because he understood the language of twins. He knew what it was like to have somebody who could finish your sentences before you had even started them. Somebody who you didn't have to touch to know they were there. Somebody who was always present, always around, always relied upon.

Until one day they weren't anymore, and then you had to figure out what to do with yourself.

Of course, his twins wouldn't know that. Oh, someday they would understand that their father had been a twin too…and privately they would murmur to each other how awful it must have been, because neither of them could EVER live without the other, clearly, and how had their poor father done it? And at the same time they wouldn't see him as a twin; he would be just George to them, just their poor old father who thought he knew what was in their minds without ever quite getting it.

And George would watch, as an outsider, the perfect circle that he used to be a part of continue on in his children, and he could never quite fit in.

And somehow it didn't seem fair. Yet at the same time it seemed petty, and he felt a fool for being strangely jealous of his unborn children because they would have the gift of something he'd lost.

"George, dear." His mother's voice startled him, and he turned to look back up at her, from where he sat by the gravehard. He blinked and put his hand up; he hadn't realized he'd started crying.

Molly came down and sat next to him, reaching over and pulling him close to her, letting him lean against her. He knew, somehow, that he didn't have to explain anything to her; Molly would understand well enough what was churning through his muddled head right now.

Sure enough, she eventually began to speak.

"Your Uncles died before you were born. And as elated as I was when I found out I was having twins, it seemed strange at first, like I was replacing them in some way." She snorted. "And of course your Aunt Muriel being a harbinger of doom didn't help at all. Georgie, please tell me your not thinking about those stories she told me, and not thinking that your babies are doomed."

"NOT." He said, managing to give her a wan smile. "That's not what's bothering me, Mum."

"Ah. So it is just the wistfulness, hm?"

Wistfulness? George didn't speak. That was one way to put it, he supposed; sometimes it seemed a lot less benign, the white hot jealously that would crop in to his heart when he least expected it.

Molly continued on. "…You're imagining a lot right now, love, most of which is never going to happen. You think that in some way they are going to take the place of you and Fred in the family, but they won't. Not any more than Alf replaced Fred in our lives. He's a continuation of Fred, but he is wholly his own person, George." Molly kissed the side of his head gently. "You remember when Harry was young, how mad I would get at Sirius because he kept seeing Harry as James? He didn't do it always, but he did it sometimes, and it made me mad."

"I remember." George said, wondering where she was going with this.

"Well, what Sirius didn't really accept, but I learned early, is that a child isn't really a copy of their parents. Look at the lot of you, so different. I see pieces of me in each of you, in different ways, the same as I see pieces of your Dad, but yet you're each quite your own person. You, George…you have Arthur's temperament, and my cooking skills, and Uncle Thatcher's voice, apparently, and all other sorts of bits and pieces that came together to be you."

George took a deep breath. "I know that's true with Alf. Sometimes I see Fred in him, and sometimes me, and sometimes Katie…but I stopped looking for the parts a long time ago. He's altogether so much more than all of that."

"Well of course he is, dear, and so will the new ones be, once they get here. You won't be looking at them and seeing you and Fred…you will be seeing your children, for the new and wonderful people they are." She squeezed him gently. "It will be alright, Georgie."

George wrapped his own arm around her back, and sighed, breathing in the smell of fresh dirt and hazy sunshine that was hovering about Fred's grave right now. Yes, it would be alright. This was not the reincarnation of Fred and George, but new life and new horizons to be conquered. That was all.

And quite suddenly he realized, that was enough.


	22. Ch 22 Breakdown

The village of Godric's Hollow was largely magical in nature, although there was a muggle side of town. The two areas had coexisted in harmony, with the muggle folks being largely unaware that there was anything unusual about their little town. To be sure, they might have a higher incidence of shooting stars than other places, and for some reason they seemed to be a bit of a haven for owls, but by and large everyone was happy with their little town.

Just a week after the end of their fourth school year, Alf found himself walking towards a rather large park at the center of the village, CJ ambling beside him, tossing around a decidedly muggle football. Alf was pushing a stroller in front of him, which contained an enthusiastic eighteen month old Freddo, who was leaning forward, pointing and exclaiming at everything he saw.

"Bird!" Freddo chanted with a wide grin, pointing at a nearby sparrow. "Tree!" He heard CJ chuckle and glanced back at him, green eyes flashing. He pointed to the soccer ball. "Bludgerrrrrrrr!"

"Ball." CJ corrected, bouncing it down to the pathway. "See, Freddo? If it were a bludger it wouldn't behave so nicely."

Freddo frowned, and looked up to Alf, confused. "Yep, Freddo, that's a football. Football." Alf repeated.

Freddo shrugged once, grabbed hold of his juice cup, and sat back in the stroller, in contemplation of the world that was before him.

Alf looked over at CJ, with one eyebrow raised. "The swings are nicer on the other side of the park. Think you can play muggle?"

"I got a 98 on my last exam, I'll have you know." CJ pretended to be indignant. "And I'm carrying a football. What could be more muggle?"

"Hmm." Alf wasn't entirely convinced. "Actually Freddo's a bigger risk, what with accidental magic and all." Alf stopped the stroller and came around to kneel in front of his little brother. "Can you be a good boy, Freddo, if we go to the special swings? If you're a good boy, we can get ice cream?" He said, knowing that Freddo was beginning to understand that "good boy" meant not levitating the cat in front of people, or sending your peas flying right down in to the garbage in a neat arrow.

He also understood "ice cream."

"Gooo Boy!" Freddo said, with great energy. "Gooo Boy, Gooo Boy!"

"Right, then." Alf got back behind the stroller, and they began crossing the great field, towards the far side of the park. Freddo started singing to himself, and Alf gave CJ a glance. "You getting any farther along with your research on oaths?"

CJ sighed. "A little. I feel like I'm hitting a plateau, just learning more and more about the same things. And not quite exactly what would really help me."

"And which you can't tell me." Alf put in, looking at CJ carefully. CJ's eyes just went particularly dark and worried, and Alf gave in. "Alright, Ceej. You know I'll do anything I can."

"I know." CJ said, then deftly changed the topic. "Your Dad's a bit crazed, hm?"

George's temper, normally set on a very long fuse, had been more volatile than normal of late. Not that he tended to take it out on the boys, and certainly never on Michelle, but with Ron or any of the store employees he had become quite acerbic in his reactions to things. The deadline extension on the fireworks order had helped, but Alf suspected there was more bothering him than that.

"Miss Shell's due in a few weeks. I think he's worrying a bit more than normal." Alf remembered the illness his step-mother had suffered in Freddo's birth and how she had nearly died. "Even if he's 99 percent sure that nothing like that will happen now, he's still a little scared."

"I can't blame him." CJ admitted, tossing the ball up in the air and catching it. "And then there's the whole thing with Uncle Percy."

"Right." Alf was as clueless as the rest of the family as to what, exactly, the "whole thing" was. What the family knew is that suddenly Percy's job was taking him out of the country for three and four days at a time, and that those times were becoming more frequent. With his grandfather now out of the Ministry, and with Harry involved in different projects, nobody was quite sure what he was up to. He had become secretive and withdrawn to a certain extent. All in all, not Percy at all, and for some reason everyone in the family seemed to think George could get to the bottom of it.

George, in the midst of a major contract and with his wife heavily pregnant with twins, was getting rather frustrated by the expectation it seemed his entire family suddenly had that he could fix everything.

"He's not used to being Bill." Alf mused quietly. "Normally I think there's an expectation that Bill would take charge of everything."

"Like you." CJ drawled with a sideways glance, and Alf felt himself blushing. It was true that not only as an older brother, but as the oldest of an extended group of Weasley offspring, that he had found himself being the leader of sorts. He'd started that himself when he'd stepped in to help out  
Victoire on her first day of Hogwarts. Since that day, specifically, it seemed that any of his cousins came to him to help resolve disputes or to have a shoulder to cry on. Just yesterday he'd spent most of the afternoon with a dejected Albus, too young for youth quidditch, feeling rather left behind by his older brother. They'd ended up playing football for a bit, with CJ joining in and Lily cheering them on.

"I don't think I really take charge that much, do I?" Alf worried. Bill, as adored as he was by his younger siblings, also earned his share of exasperated rolled eyes when he tried to steer things in the way he thought the world should work.

CJ snorted, but on Alf's worried look, he came up short. "You don't take charge, Alf...you accept it when asked. You just get asked more than anybody else."

"SWING!" Freddo hollered, as they'd reached the far end of the park by the nicer swing set, the one which was set up for toddlers. He tried to stand up in the stroller, and gave a yelp of frustration at the strap that restrained him in. "Out, Alf, Out!" He waved his arms to his brother desperately.

"Patience, kiddo." Alf grinned, bending over to extricate his younger brother, while CJ began to open up one of the toddler swings. It took just a few minutes, during which Freddo was nearly quivering with excitement, but eventually they had him settled in and Alf started pushing him, while CJ stood nearby, practicing the few moves he knew with the football, all the while the two of them chatting...in strictly muggle terms...about their upcoming school year, and then gently morphed into other subjects.

"Think Flitwick will retire after this year, or not?" CJ drawled.

"Nah...he still loves teaching too much. Besides, who, other than my Dad, knows anywhere near enough charms to teach them like he does?" Alf replied.

"True...and your Dad's already got quite enough to do. Heard from Eileen this summer?"

"Just once. She hasn't seen that kid again, but she seems to be having a blast. I think the family was going to be spending a couple of weeks at the Maryland shore." Alf gave CJ a wary glare. "And don't you start thinking that the fact that she wrote me means anything at all."

"Means anything all about what?" CJ pretended, then catching Alf's glower, he grinned back. "I know it doesn't mean anything...she wrote me too. I just wanted to see if she said anything different to you."

"Hmph." Alf snorted. "And one of these days I'm going to pair you off with someone, and start rumors about you."

"I've never started rumors!" CJ objected. Though he did blush a bit, because he knew darned well what girl he liked, and since she was Alf's half sister, he hardly dared to mention it.

Alf was too sharp to let things drop, naturally, once he saw he'd caught CJ out in something. "So...who exactly do you want to be paired off with, CJ? Anyone I know?"

"Shaddup."

"I'll take that as a yes." Alf's eyes sparkled. "Taylor Conlogue? She's quite pretty..."

"Vacuous." CJ scorned.

"Poiema Willis from Slytherin? She's sharp as a tack."

"Sharp as a _serpent_." CJ snorted. "I've seen her shred people to nothing, over nothing. I've had enough of that, thank you."

"Violet Dugan? Cara Moses? Leia Murad?" Alf would have kept laundry listing the girls in their year quite happily, except that he finally succeeded in goading CJ to admitting the unthinkable.

"YOUR SISTER!" He snapped out. "Alright? If I fancy anybody, I fancy Liv!" He finally gasped out, face pale with two large splotches of red on either cheek.

"Wha?" Alf gaped, quite forgetting what he was doing. Which was unfortunate, as he was pushing Freddo on the swing, which came back and caught him square on the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

"ALF!" CJ yelped, stopping the swing and kneeling down beside his friend. "Alf, you okay?"

Alf sat up and shook his head out, his hand on his jaw, which had a nice sized welt that was quickly forming a formidable bruise. "OW!" He said, wincing. "Bloody hell, that hurt!"

"Alf? Alf kay? Alf?" Freddo was twisting around in the swing, fussing.

Before CJ could do anything, a pretty muggle girl who had been down at the other end of the swings came over to him. "Is he okay?"

Alf and CJ both looked up at the same time. The girl was about their age, and was with a nine year old boy, wide eyed with worry. She was tall and thin, with very blond hair and very blue eyes, and a quite nice smile. Alf looked up at her and was utterly rendered speechless.

The girl looked over at the young boy. "Brian, run over to Mum and get some ice from the cooler?"

"Okay!" The boy ran off quickly, and the girl turned back towards Alf.

"I'm Bianca Ryan. Are you new here?" She smiled kindly down at him

Alf tried to speak, but what game out was something along the lines of "Livinonfelixlane."

Blinking, the girl looked over to CJ, who was unhitching Freddo and calming him, for a translation. "We live over on Felix Lane, in the East Side of town."

"Ah." The girl's face cleared. "I don't know many East-Siders. You kids usually go to some private school, right?"

"In Scotland." CJ replied, kneeling on the ground next to Alf, so Freddo could see he's okay. "I'm CJ Diggory, and this is Alf Weasley and his brother Freddo."

"Oh...thanks, Brian." She added, as her younger brother handed her a plastic bag with ice, and she held it over Alf's bruised face very gently. "I thought at first you two were brothers, the way you said you lived over on Felix Lane."

Alf finally found his voice. "We're as good as brothers...CJ pretty much lives with us. We're family." He gave CJ a calculated glance. "Although we're about to be even closer."

"Anyway..." CJ drawled on, covering up his blush and wondering if Alf would recover himself enough to deck him properly for admitting to having improper thoughts about Liv. "Now that Alf seems to be functional, maybe it's time we took Freddo for his ice-cream, if he's up to it?"

"Gooo Boy!" Freddo desperately reminded them, then reached over to hug Alf. "Pease, Alf?"

Alf chuckled as much as he could and rose with CJ's help. "As if I can deny you ANYTHING, you little blighter." He looked shyly at Bianca. "I don't suppose you and your brother would care to join us?" CJ coughed to cover up a laugh, while Bianca gave him a grateful look.

"I'd love to...Brian was just about to head over to help our dad with the grill, weren't you?" She looked at him meaningfully.

"Oh...right...only if you get me ice cream later?" And with a wink, he darted off.

CJ moved to strap Freddo in, and began to push him, tucking the ball into the carrying pack and letting Alf walk beside him, holding the ice on his cheek, and Bianca falling to step next to them.

She mostly chatted about Freddo, who was more than happy to be the center of attention. As they reached the ice cream stand, she turned to Alf. "You really are very good with him...it's quite cute."

Cute was a word Alf normally found revolting, but somehow it sounded rather nice coming from her. And he quite happily made small talk about their respective families, with CJ adding in an amused grunt from time to time, while Freddo absolutely demolished a chocolate cone. Finally, CJ was forced to interrupt. "We better get Freddo home...it will take us at least half an hour to clean him off."

Alf fully focused on his baby brother with a mock groan. "Freddo...you're going to be in the bath for hours."

"No bath...Gooo Boy!" Freddo insisted. And then, "Charm!"

Meaning, Alf knew, that Freddo thought a cleaning charm would do quite nicely. He and CJ exchanged glances of alarm, but Bianca just laughed.

"I think you're charming too, Freddo..." And she whispered to the youngster. "And your brother as well."

Alf knew at that moment that his face was getting as red as his hair. "Well, um...see you around then?"

"No doubt...I'm in this park on most days in the summer, after my tennis lessons." And with a wink, she turned away, leaving Alf gazing after her.

CJ was forced to nudge him. "C'mon; it's going to take half an hour alone to explain your face. Does it hurt?"

"Huh? Oh...a little." He rubbed his cheek gingerly, then let CJ continue pushing Freddo while he carried the ball. "So...Liv?"

CJ took a deep breath. "I know it sounds stupid, Alf...I know she's two years behind us, and I'm not doing anything...I mean, I would never..." He stuttered out.

"It's not stupid." Alf replied. "You've got a lot in common, actually, in a weird way. Have you said anything to her?"

"Are you out of your MIND?" He retorted.

"Yes, but nothing new there." They began crossing the meadow. "Well, I'd rather have you dating her than just about anyone else, should it ever come to that."

CJ looked over to Alf in some surprise. "Are you giving me your blessing?" He asked, incredulously.

"Just know that if you ever hurt her, I will kill you." Alf looked over CJ. "But I don't think you ever would hurt her, CJ. You're not that sort."

There was a few moments of silence. CJ finally admitting. "Right now I'm not in any position to ask her out, anyway...she's too young and I'm too unsettled."

Alf was about to question that, when he felt a burning sensation from the coin he carried. "Ow!" He winced, pulling it out and holding it in his hand. "Hell, Dad's angry!"

"Angry?" CJ was puzzled. "Are you sure?"

The spelled coins George had given them both sometimes acted as a conduit for emotions, and this time anger was coming through loud and clear. Alf frowned; he knew that usually those feelings had to involve each other for the coin to work. "Why is he mad at me?" He worried.

"Maybe he's just angry about something in general." CJ soothed. "I mean, we didn't do anything wrong?"

"Not that I know of...still, we better get home as soon as possible." And with that the two of them made double time, pushing the stroller over the ground as fast as they dared, Freddo's delight almost taking an edge off of their worry.

Almost.

WWWWWWW

George Weasley was having a truly horrible day.

It was his day off. He'd been working his tail off for the past several weeks, knowing that with the babies coming that Michelle would need him around after the birth. However, she also was home with a toddler, and even with the boys back from school, it was a fair amount to handle for a woman heavily pregnant with twins.

So when Michelle mentioned that her friend Karen Brookes was in town, George had been only too willing to spend a day at home so she could head in to London to meet her. There would be precious few days she'd have that chance for the rest of the summer. Besides, there were some things he'd like to do around the house.

Mostly, the babies needed a nursery. They had a small guest room that could be converted; he didn't care to force Freddo out of his nursery, or to force CJ and Alf into sharing a room. He was conscious, as always, of not wanting the boys to feel they were being usurped in any way. So he had started, in his spare time (HA!) adding on an addition over the garage, that would be the new master bedroom eventually.

So a chunk of his morning had been spent arguing with contractors, who, in either the muggle or magical world, seemed to exist for the sole purpose of getting normally sane people to contemplate murder. HOW Ron was working with these idiots on that giant waste of a warehouse…

Which of course, was problem number two. Ron was so consumed with completing what George had dubbed the Taj Ma Ron that he wasn't, as far as George was concerned, paying proper attention to the store. Which was a major problem when you were trying to work on a major commission that could totally change your business forever and really needed to rely on your partner to pick up some of the day to day. And it was even worse when you were trying to run a business, complete a commission, remodel your house, act as a father to two active teens and a toddler, and oh yeah, your wife is expecting twins.

But add to George's already frayed nerves the seven (!) different Owls or firechats he'd received during the day regarding Percy…and he was a man seriously in danger of falling off a cliff!

He'd fed the boys, played a bit with Freddo, and was relieved to hand the toddler over to Alfred once the contractors had arrived. And then an Owl pulled him away from the project…

"George…you've got to make contact with Percy. He's just flat out weird. And SOMETHING is up. I've heard rumors of him spending time in Croatia. Percy's a hell of a bureaucrat, but he's not up to field work. He'll listen to you. Please try."

That from Charlie.

Then Mum getting him on the floo less than ten minutes later, just when he was in the midst of negotiating price on the addition of a master bathroom.

"George dear, Percy's so _vulnerable_, and you know how much he _values_ your opinion. He's spending far too much time away from Penny and the kids right now…and that's not right. He just doesn't realize, I'm sure, the strain he's putting on his family. I know you can drive that home to him, better than anybody else. You are the closest to him, after all…"

George's protests (Closest to Percy? Had mum watched them growing up at _all?!_ ) went unheeded. Not unusual; when Molly had an idea in her head and a full head of steam, any part you had in the conversation was incidental. So by the time he'd signed off with her, he'd already felt a nerve in his face twitching.

Then Verity had checked in with him about a problem at the Hogsmeade branch, and while he was in the middle of making an important decision, owls arrived simultaneously from Fleur and from Ginny. Fleur moaned that Bill was exasperated beyond belief about Percy and totally unable to come up with a way to reach him; surely George could do so, no? While Ginny flat out expected that George would be the only one able to kick Percy's ass and make him realize that whatever he was doing was insane.

Then the contractors had broken a pipe, causing a veritable waterfountain in the addition, which took a solid hour to fix. After which point his father caught him on the floo, wanting to know if he'd had any luck reaching Percy yet?

It had taken all of George's strength not to scream at his father, something he'd never done in his entire life.

Harry had owled then, to let George know that he "knew he was working on helping out Percy…and that Harry had made inquiries and couldn't uncover anything of use at the ministry. But surely George would have better luck…"

Finally, Penny had actually floo'ed in to his living room…George at that moment covered in wet plaster thanks to the most recent construction debacles…and had cried on his shoulder for ten minutes because Percy had been home for exactly one day "…before cryptically insisting he had to leave again, and now he was away doing who knows what, and didn't George know that Percy still felt guilty about Fred, and wasn't George going to DO anything?"

He'd extricated Penny with a promise to try to find out what was going, soothing her as best as he could while feeling the huge weight of the yoke of guilt she had just slid on his shoulders. Then he saw the contractors off after another blow-out argument over a cost overrun, and went to hunt out the boys to see how they were doing.

"Alf…everything under control with Freddo?" He said, feeling even more guilty when he realized that he hadn't given any thought to the boys at all, all afternoon.

Dead silence answered him.

"Alf?" He called again. "CJ?"

Rufus raised his head from the hearth, and Hagrid lifted his head with a woof, but there was no other response.

George headed in to the back yard, expecting to find the boys there, but nothing but the occasional lawn gnome moved about.

"ALF?" He called, an edge creeping in to his voice. "CJ?" His voice went up another decibel. "Freddo??"

He jogged back in to the house, wondering what on earth he would say to Michelle if anything had happened to the boys. Surely he would have noticed, right? But what if Amos Diggory had found a way to get at them…or Dorcas Bell, Alf's crazy maternal grandmother? He wasn't without enemies, after all.

Hell, where WERE they?

He came up short when he noticed that the stroller was gone.

They wouldn't have taken the baby out for a walk without telling him, would they?

A juice cup was absent from the neat row Michelle kept them in. The soccer ball wasn't in the closet where it usually ways.

Something burst in George like a damn, then; an entire days worth of frustration poured out in the knowledge that Alf had taken Freddo off the street without so much as TELLING him! He grabbed the coin that connected him most closely to Alf, and without clear thought only knew that Alf had better get himself home, NOW, immediately, without delay, and had better have a damned good explanation for the jolt of worry George had just had, that he sure as HELL didn't need!!

He felt the anger flowing through him, and knew that Alf would know it too. And he'd get home quickly…or else!

WWWWWWW

Alf and CJ were nearly out of breath when they came up to the back door. CJ went to get Freddo out of the stroller, and Alf tossed the ball into a nearby bin, and they came in to the kitchen, breathless.

George was standing there with his arms crossed, and his eyes blazing.

"Where…" He seethed, just under the boiling point. "…have you lot BEEN, Alfred?"

Alf blinked and swallowed a gulp; he'd never seen George quite this angry. "We took Freddo for a walk in the park."

"The park. McCartney Park. The park that's half a mile away?" George repeated, disbelief in every word.

"Well, yes…it's the closest one." Alf explained, not at all sure what the problem was.

"And why did it take you…NEARLY HALF AN HOUR to get yourself home after you clearly knew I was looking for you, or did you not even THINK to bring your coin with you?" He continued.

"Of course I brought the coin." Alf insisted, holding it out. "And we did come back as soon as we could…we were in the middle of the great meadow when it happened, probably about a mile away."

"The GREAT MEADOW?" George exclaimed, then paused. "Hang on…just how far did you take your little brother, Alfred?"

Sensing that this was not looking particularly good, Alf's voice quavered just a little. "We walked to the south side."

"THE MUGGLE SIDE?" George yelled loudly, and Alf actually took a step backwards; Freddo whimpered in CJ's arms, and CJ tried to calm everything down.

"There aren't any toddler safe swings on the magic side, Sir." He explained. "And we wanted to get Freddo ice cream."

George then got a good look at Alf, as Alf had backed in to the sunlight from the door. "Alf…WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE…WERE YOU FIGHTING?"

"No…" Alf said, quickly. "I got hit with a swing…because…well…"

"I distracted him…it was my fault." CJ interjected.

George closed his eyes; both boys could nearly see him counting to ten. "Alfred…you foolishly left the street with your brother without permission…"

"But…" Alf interrupted, then came up short as George turned a fearsome glare on him.

"…Without permission, you brought him to the muggle side of the park, WITHOUT PERMISSION, and you took a solid hour to get back here…I do not understand how you could possibly have been so careless or foolish, and bloody IRRESPONSIBLE! You are grounded for the next two weeks…I don't even want to see you out of your room for that time, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" George shouted the last, as Alf just blinked up at him mutely.

"Yes…Sir." He gulped out.

"THEN GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

Alf ran past him to the stairs, and Freddo started crying out loud; CJ waited warily for George to turn his anger towards him, even as he tried to comfort the toddler, so clearly not used to all this yelling.

George felt the anger seep from him in a wave of weariness, and he looked over at CJ. "I'll give him a bath, CJ." He said quietly, taking the child, who actually tried to twist away.

"I went with Alf." CJ said, sounding confused. "I mean, I assume I'm grounded too?"

George sighed in pure exhaustion, as he bounced Freddo gently. "Freddo wasn't your responsibility, CJ. He's Alf's brother. Alf should know better."

George turned to take Freddo in to the bathroom, not even seeing the pain on CJ's face as he hoped for a better evening…or at least five minutes when he didn't feel like everyone expected the world from him.

WWWWWWW

Michelle arrived home in a perfect mood, although she felt a bit of a cow. Five weeks from her delivery date, and she knew days like today would be rare for a while. But she'd had a wonderful visit with Karen, done a bit of shopping, eaten too much desert, and now was looking forward to a peaceful evening with her wonderful family.

She knew something was wrong the minute she walked in the door. First of all, the familiar smell of cooking usually found when George had the day and the kitchen to himself was absent. Second, it was quiet. No Weasley house should ever be quiet.

"Hello?" She asked, feeling a twinge of worry.

"Woof." Hagrid came up to her, not with bounding enthusiasm but to lean his head against her leg. Rufus followed him, sitting on his haunches in the doorway with a meow, before walking pointedly upstairs.

Fair enough. Michelle followed Rufus to Alf's room, which she tapped on gently,

"Go 'way." Alf's muffled voice responded.

She entered anyway, to find Alf flung on the bed, hugging his pillow to himself, a rather nasty bruise on his cheek and a pout on his face. "Why are you sitting in your room with the curtains drawn?"

"Grounded." Alf said, bleakly.

"Ah…can I ask why?"

"Ask Dad."

Michelle counted to ten. "I'm asking you, Alf." She said, gently, coming over to rub his shoulder.

Alf swallowed once. "Took Freddo for a walk. Dad didn't like that. Thought I was reckless."

Michelle didn't understand. "But you've taken Freddo out for a walk to the park every day since you've been home, as long as it wasn't raining. Didn't you tell him that?"

"He wasn't in a mood to listen." Alf grumbled, then turned over to the wall. "I'm a careless, foolish, irresponsible brother."

"And your face?" She asked, concerned.

"Got clocked by Freddo's swing at the park. Got distracted for a second." He murmured.

Michelle accio'd the bruise cream, and without saying anything else she dabbed the welt on his face. She didn't make a single comment as she observed a few tears sliding down his face, knowing that at fifteen Alf would be mortified. But she did kiss him on the forehead before she rose to leave.

"I'll explain to him, Alf." She promised, though Alf didn't do more than blink in response.

With a sigh, she headed out to the hallway, only to see Rufus now waiting expectantly in front of CJ's room.

CJ was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin, his bags half packed up. "Are you going somewhere?" Michelle asked, starting to wonder how much could have gone wrong in a few hours.

"I dunno. But I don't belong here."

"I see. Are you grounded too?" She asked, assuming he would be since he had been with Alf on the park run.

"No, I'm not important enough to be grounded." CJ said flatly.

Michelle just blinked. "Explain, please?" She said, sitting on the corner of his bed.

"Well, it's not like I'm responsible for Freddo. Not like I'm his brother or anything. Alf's all to blame because I'm just a visitor along for the ride, right? A house guest who stayed to long? And then I thought, you know, if I left, you and George wouldn't have to do all that work with a new room over the garage, and the new babies could just have my room. I mean, I could go anywhere and it wouldn't matter, right?"

"Right." Michelle scowled, and got up, and with a wave of her wand immediately unpacked CJ's bags, sending shirts and trousers into drawers with great speed. "CJ, you are NOT going anywhere. This is your home and you are not in the way. George may be upset, but I am quite certain that he didn't mean what you think he meant."

CJ just turned wide, dark eyes on her, and she stroked his hair gently. "I know you love Freddo as much as Alf does, and I know that neither of you would ever risk harm coming to him."

CJ gulped a little. "We _did_ take him to the muggle swings."

"Well, yes…that's where the safety swings are. I'd be much more upset if you'd tried to swing him on the regular swings in the magic section." Michelle had, after all, been to the park many times with her young son.

"George didn't like that much at ALL." CJ said.

_Well, if he had ever taken Freddo to the park with me, he'd understand why you had to do that._

Michelle squeezed CJ's shoulder in reassurance, and then resolutely set out to find her husband.

WWWWWWW

After the fight in the kitchen, George had sat in the bathroom with Freddo, drawing water in for the baby, who was sucking on his two middle fingers and watching George thoughtfully.

"Don't look at me like that, Freddo." George mumbled gently. "I know I sounded scary, but Alf shouldn't have been that reckless."

Freddo kept staring at him, watching as George tested the water, and then letting him undress him, settling him in the tub. Freddo normally splashed and squealed in the tub, but not today; he kept sucking his fingers and watching cautiously. George started washing the remnants of the ice cream off Freddo's face. "Chocolate, eh?"

"Gooo boy." Freddo answered. "Alf and Ceejay say Gooo boy."

"I'm sure you were." George soothed, feeling vaguely ill at the way the day had ended. Perhaps he had rather over-reacted. Clearly Freddo was fine.

"Alf boo boo." Freddo added. "Fall down, Ceejay fix."

George blinked, having not fully registered that Alf might have been hurt badly. "The swing really hit Alf?"

"Alf push. Missed. Fall down." He repeated. "Say ow."

"I bet he did." George sighed hard; he'd have to look in on Alf and see to that bruise…he might be hurt worse than he realized. And they'd have to talk this over…he still shouldn't have taken Freddo out without permission, but George shouldn't have come down on him like that, either.

"Alf goo." Freddo insisted. "Ceejay goo." He nodded. "Goooo bro-ders. Big bro-ders."

George managed a smile at his young son, so attached to his big brothers that he would defend them to the best ability of a toddler.

Oh, bloody hell!

The look on CJ's face as George had carried Freddo into the downstairs bath came back to him. It hadn't registered at the time…but what had he said.

"_He's not your responsibility …Alf is his brother…"_

What was he thinking? What must that have sounded like to CJ?

"Freddo…what have I done?" George asked, feeling sick suddenly.

"Daddy loud." Freddo took the question literally. "Mum no loud after park." He added thoughtfully.

Come again? George thought.

A vague memory came back to him. He'd been so busy these past few weeks; the addition to the house, the fireworks commission, the Percy issues…he'd been so tired when he got home. Michelle and the boys had been great, being careful not to lay too much on his doorstep. But he hadn't paid them enough attention, not by half.

Just last night Michelle had been lavishing praise on both boys as George worked on a few sketches for the next rocket.

"…_And the boys have been so terrific; they take Freddo out to the park nearly every day. He loves the toddler swings on the south side, but it's just too hard for me to get over there right now…"_

He had heard, sort of. He'd made all the right responses. But he'd been so wrapped up in what he was doing that he hadn't really listened; certainly hadn't retained the information.

But it became a suddenly clear fact. Alf and CJ took Freddo to the park every day. Michelle knew it. They took him to the muggle side, every day. Michelle knew it, and clearly approved it. And Michelle was not reckless. She trusted the boys.

And if George had been _bloody paying attention_ to his wife, he'd have known right away where they were and not worried at all. If he were any kind of father, he would have joined them.

As he absently lifted Freddo out of the bath and toweled him off, another owl arrived, this one with a howler. As he watched it broke open and Molly's voice burst forth shrilly.

"GEORGE WEASLEY, AM I TO UNDERSTAND THAT DESPITE DIRECT APPEALS YOU STILL HAVEN'T SPOKEN TO YOUR BROTHER…"

His mother's voice bounced off the walls, and George hugged Freddo close to him and started to cry.


	23. Ch 23 Perfectly Imperfect

Michelle used her wand to point herself towards George, and headed with a few choice words on her lips to the downstairs bathroom as it indicated. However, just as she got to the door, she heard the shrill voice of Molly Weasley in an acerbic harangue that she knew the woman was capable of when worried about one of her offspring. It brought her up short for a second until she realized it was a howler. And her face creased in surprise at the subject matter...why was she chewing George out over Percy? How on earth would George be expected to be responsible for his older brother?

As the howler exploded, she heard something else that nearly made her heart leap. She heard George break down and cry. Sob, really. And forgetting her own planned reaction to George's erratic behavior to the boys, she ran in to him.

He was collapsed on the floor by the tub, clasping Freddo in his arms, and weeping inconsolably, while rocking back and forth. Freddo, wide eyed and worried, was trying to pat his back gently; the baby turned around on hearing Michelle enter and said, quite seriously, "Daddy Cry."

"I see that." She said gently, gingerly working her way down so that she was on the floor beside them... heavens only knew how she'd manage to get back up. "George, dear..." She said, reaching over to embrace him. "My love, please...it will be alright...everything will be alright..."

"I'm terrible...terrible father...brother...I can't do it...I can't...not anymore..." He choked out, actually shaking with despair.

"Hush, love." She fought to keep the calming note in her voice, when in fact she was beginning to get quite worried. "Hush...we will work everything out together...we're a team, remember? Hm?"

George seemed unable to stop the flow of tears, and with worry she accio'd the playpen and managed to get a frightened Freddo inside; he stood up and grabbed the railing, watching his father anxiously. She then placed her hands on George's face and stroked gently; he trembled in her hands, finally meeting her eyes with a glance filled with despair. "Forgive me, love..." She murmured, and then took up her wand.

"Legilimens!" She cast.

Images filled her from George's mind, one toppling on top of each other. The store, the chaos, the addition...one after the next. The twins, a constant worry for her, a constant anxiety over just having twins (and how could she not have realized that would freak him out?) the need for the babies to have a good nursery. Wanting to keep Alf from being displaced and keep CJ from feeling unwanted, wanting Freddo to keep his room and the need to have everything perfect, perfect, perfect. The constant issues with the contractors, the problems at the store, and all of the owls and fire-chats about Percy and the buildup of pressure to do something when he had so many other things he had to do. Penny's visit and her actually invoking Fred, and Percy's guilt, as a way of pushing George harder...like George needed to be pushed. Guilt over having ignored the boys all day and then very real and viable terror that the boys were gone, gone missing, images of Amos Diggory, of Dorcas Bell, and the thought of his boys in their hands flooded him, and then exploded in anger when he came to the conclusion that they had left the house on their own and he hadn't known.

White hot anger then, flowing over his thoughts and crowding out everything else. She felt him holding back from physically lashing out at Alf, saw his fight for control to keep him from completely going off the deep end, heard his terse words spoken to both boys and then the sudden ebbing of anger with exhaustion. She then felt the waves come over him, gradual waves of remorse that increased as his thoughts cleared and he realized the effects his words must have had on CJ and the guilt at having not even listened to Alf...morphing into sick realization that Alf in fact had not done anything wrong, anything without permission, George had merely ignored what everyone else seemed to know.

His thoughts now were consumed with failure, punctuated by Molly's howler and the belief that in trying to do everything he had done nothing, except destroy everything that mattered to him. He imagined CJ withdrawing, Alf hating him, Freddo not trusting him, Michelle angry and Percy dead because of him.

"Oh, George..." She sighed, pulling him into her arms. He choked down his sobs, but was still trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. "You aren't superhuman...you can't do everything. And we don't expect you to. Hush, love..." She nuzzled against his head hoping to calm him, soothing him as best she could, and wondering how she could convince him that it was all really going to be okay.

WWWWWWW

Alf didn't move from his curled up position once his step-mother left the room, continuing his blank stare at the wall. He felt utterly miserable, frustrated and angry, and was afraid if he tried to articulate any of it, he'd lose it completely.

He knew his father loved him. That, at least, was something he was quite secure in. If the same episode had happened a few years back he would quite probably have been terrified of George giving up on him. But he knew now that even when he screwed up, he was still George's son. They would get through it. It sucked to be grounded and to know his Dad was disappointed in him, but if he had actually done something bone-headed that had put Freddo at risk, something he deserved to get punished for, he could handle it.

But THIS? He hadn't done anything wrong; he was quite convinced of it, and couldn't believe that Dad had gone off on him like that. Hell, even a few years back with the misunderstanding about his venture into Nocturn Alley he hadn't gotten chewed out like that...even though George had clearly been angry, he had waited for Alf to explain what happened before deciding how to punish him, and THEN he hadn't really punished him at all. The same thing with the fireworks he'd accidentally set off at the store when he first lived with George, before he even was calling him Dad. Ironically, you could make a case that he ought to have been punished in both cases, certainly more severely than having to clean the fireworks or the gentle scolding he'd gotten over not being more forthcoming in the Nocturn Alley incident.

Today, though, he'd only wanted to HELP. He was sensitive to how his Dad was feeling. George had a major work commission, Uncle Ron was swamped, he was worried beyond what he was letting anybody see about Miss Shell's pregnancy, there was a house full of construction guys, and then there was the whole Uncle Percy thing. Alf felt that he knew his Dad as good as if not better than anybody, and all he'd wanted to do was take any burden away from him that he could.

So why NOT take Freddo out to the Park? They did it most afternoons automatically. And Dad certainly hadn't needed to have a couple of teens and a toddler loafing around underfoot. And most teens, he was fairly certain, would have considered getting stuck with an eighteen month old to be heinous torture. He thought he was doing the mature, responsible, helpful thing...so to do all that and end up getting called careless, foolish and irresponsible by the person he cared most about and most wanted to help, well, it just flat out sucked!

Alf huffed lightly, swallowing the lump in his throat, and pulling out the chain that held the coin that helped to connect him with his father. He wondered, as he ran it through his fingers, of his father could feel how unhappy he was right now, and if it would do any...

Alf sat up sharply, eyes wide. Just as earlier he'd felt George's anger come through so clearly, he was feeling George's emotions again. Only now it was despair; flowing anguish that was quite scary. What had happened? Was Miss Shell okay? Was it the baby?

He got up out of bed at once and sprang up to the door, hesitating for a second. The last thing his father had said to him was that he didn't want to see him out of his room...was he risking getting in even worse trouble? He gulped once, and then shook himself...even if Dad ended up locking him in his room for the rest of the summer, he wasn't about to ignore his father in need. He couldn't just sit in his room, with his Dad feeling like that.

Resolutely he flung the door open, only to look across the hall to see CJ, also standing there hesitantly with his coin in his hand. CJ gave him a lop-sided grin. "Right. We're either both very brave or very stupid." He quipped.

"Griffindor after all." Alf shrugged, and the two of them charged downstairs.

WWWWWWW

Michelle looked up in relief when she saw Alf and CJ huddled in the doorway, faces pale with worry at the scene before them. Somehow, they had known that they were needed...because right now she doubted that anything she could say was going to convince George he hadn't completely mucked up his life. Only...how did she explain to them that George was not acting irrationally any more and that they could come on in?

Strangely she didn't have to. "Dad?" Alf spoke first, his voice deceptively calm. "Is everything alright?"

CJ took his cue from Alf. "Can we help?"

George, still shaking, lifted his head from Michelle's shoulder, blinking in disbelief at both boys. Michelle swore she saw Alf hold his breath, as if not entirely sure what George would do next. But George merely held his arm out towards them both. "My boys." He whispered.

They came to him at once, reaching in to hug him, so that now the four of them were huddled on the floor, Michelle rather awkwardly. She saw George reach down to kiss each one of them on the head; he was still shaking though, still unable to speak more than repeatedly chanting that they were his boys, his boys, over and over again, as if he couldn't believe they still were. Both boys were remaining quite calm, trying to sooth George as best as they could, but Alf looked to her in stark worry over George's shoulder.

"Your Dad has had an exceptionally bad day, boys." She soothed. "But it's all going to be alright now."

"Of course it is." Alf said. "CJ and I will help with whatever you need."

"Anything." CJ affirmed.

Michelle looked with worry over her husband, and decided that what he needed most was sleep She squirmed slightly, and CJ noticed and came over to help her up...not the easiest thing in her condition. Alf was now beside George on one knee...George had gone back to having his knees drawn up to his chest, his eyes closed as if trying to erase everything that had happened that day.

"CJ...please do me a favor and take Freddo up to his crib and put him down for his nap...Alf, help me help your Dad up..." She smoothed her hair back from her face, and then saw Alf pause at the mound of red-flecked ash that had been the howler. He looked a question to her, and she gave a little shake of her head to indicate not to ask now. Together they managed to get George up.

"I'll be alright." He murmured, rather indistinctly, as he was still trembling.

"Of course you will." She nodded to CJ, who had Freddo secure now...the baby was leaning against his shoulder, sucking his fingers and quite quiet, and then looked once more to Alf. "I need you to go into the upper medicine cabinet, where I keep the most volatile potions, and get me the pale blue one. Make sure you lock it again afterwards."

"Right. Got it." Alf ran off upstairs, and slowly Michelle guided George towards their bedroom.

"I messed up everything." He whispered.

"Right. Because clearly Alf and CJ hate your guts right now, as you just witnessed." She teased him gently. "They're smart boys, George. And they love you."

"It's more than I deserve." He muttered, then stopped cold. "And Percy..."

"Forget Percy." Michelle said, rather sharply. "I mean, I love him too, but he's a grown man and he'd be the first one to tell you that. Contact him tomorrow by all means, but right now you are one step short of St. Mungo's, George, with the worst case of emotional exhaustion I've ever seen. You can't help anybody right now, because you need to help yourself first."

They arrived at the bedroom, and she got him down on to the bed, got his shoes off, and pulled the covers up around him snuggly. Alf came in then, with the vial of special sleeping draught she kept well out of reach of the kids. "Thanks." She murmured, taking it from him, and helping George to get a dose of it down.

The potential healer in Alf came out. "I never saw something quite that color." He mentioned.

"It's a particularly potent potion, includes both calming and sleeping elements without having any addictive ingredients. It has about seventy five non-addictive ingredients, including mountain lavender, which is where it gets its color." She handed the vial back to Alf. "Please lock this up for me, kiddo. You cannot risk giving a patient more than one dose in twenty-four hours."

"Got it. I'll make sure it's secure."

Alf scurried away, and she sat on the bed beside George, whose shaking was finally ebbing. "Better. You need rest."

"I have so much to do." He murmured, brows drawing down.

"Listen, George..." She leaned over him. "I'm going to talk to a few folks and get you some help with some things..." She kissed his forehead. "And before you start, do not worry about ME. I am feeling just fine, and the babies are just fine..." She stroked his head gently, remembering the jumble of worried thoughts he had about being a father to twins. "And you are an excellent father, and they will love you too, and it will all be okay, George, I swear to you."

Alf was back, CJ beside him. George's eyes were growing heavy. "Thanks, boys. I need to go out for a brief second. Can you keep an eye on him? He'll probably sleep through a hurricane at the moment, but I want to make sure he doesn't try to go find your Uncle Percy in his drugged state.

Alf nodded sharply. "Got it."

CJ continued, "Freddo's down at the moment, Miss Shell, but he hasn't had dinner...do you want me to feed him?"

She came over and put a hand on CJ's shoulder, and the other on Alf's. "I trust you boys implicitly to take care of your little brother. He adores you and I know you would not let any harm come to him." She spoke softly, but with quiet force. "You have always been a big help to me, and I value that greatly. So yes, there's some left over Macaroni and Cheese that you can give him for dinner, and Alf, if George comes to a bit and is thirsty, he can have water or orange juice...do not give him pumpkin juice because it will interact with the potion."

Both boys had quite flushed with pride by the time she was done, though Alf looked at her with a little worry. "Should you be going out? I mean, are you okay?"

She rubbed his head. "I was out all day, and I've never felt better. I'm just going over to your Gran's to have a bit of a chat with her."

"Ah." Alf's eyebrows went up. "The howler."

"Bingo." She squeezed them each briefly, and then moved away. "If you boys need me, you have my permission to fire-call. Hold down the fort."

"We will." They said together, as Michelle left them.

CJ and Alf looked at each other for a second. "I'll take care of Freddo. You stay with Dad." CJ said.

"We can switch off..." Alf offered.

"Your fight was worse with him than my fight was...I didn't even end up grounded." CJ pointed out, leaving out that somehow what had happened felt worse. "You stay."

Alf nodded once, and then came over to sit on the bed by his father. He smoothed the blankets back and leaned against the headboard. He considered making a quip about whether or not he was still grounded, but George was already sleeping, and besides, he wasn't sure George was up to that yet.

"I love you." Alf said, hoping George could hear him. "And I know you love me. Everything will be fine, Dad."

Alf wasn't sure if he imagined it, but it did seem that his father's creased brow eased a bit, and that his sleep became deeper. He held on to his father's hand, and settled in to just watch him for as long as he had to.

WWWWWWW

If George had been able to articulate anything coherently before Michelle had drugged him, it would have been a plea to not be given a sleeping draught. It wasn't that he didn't need sleep; he needed it desperately. But he was scared to death of his dreams right now; what he would be facing was worse than a thousand howlers from his mother.

But he'd had no choice, no way to clearly explain his fear. And so he'd felt himself relaxing, and then disappearing into his dream state, and with trepidation towards a place he dreaded...towards Fred's grave.

Fred would never forgive him.

Fred had entrusted Alf to his care...and he had just shredded Alf (who was everything you could ever hope for in a son) to pieces for absolutely no reason what so ever. And although he had never dreamed of Cedric, he wouldn't be surprised if somehow he'd managed to show up to kick his ass as well.

"I'm sorry..." George mumbled, finding himself kneeling on the ground by Fred's headstone. "I'm sorry, so sorry...so sorry..." He rocked back and forth, arms folded over his chest defensively.

"You one-eared idiot." Fred's voice came up behind him, although not in anger; George didn't dare turn around.

Fred just came around behind him, hugging his twin close. "I've never wished I could be there for you more than today, Bro." He said, his voice low and calm. "I honestly don't know how you handle it all on a good day, I'm not sure I could."

George leaned in to the embrace, not understanding how his brother could be so forgiving. "But Fred...Alf...you can't have seen..."

At that moment he heard Alf speaking to him, though as if from a distance. "I love you. And I know you love me. Everything will be fine."

"There you go." Fred encouraged him quietly. "You really think you could destroy something you worked so hard to build in five thoughtless minutes? You'll wake up, tell him your sorry, he'll tell you you're being stupid, and it will all be fine. And CJ just two minutes ago actually called you Dad, and meant it. My namesake is already taking after me for brains..." George managed a snort of laughter. "And those twins you are about to have will be the light of your life. Stop worrying yourself to death...I don't want to see you joining me for another fifty years at least!"

They were silent for some time. George felt a great burden lifting from him. And now that he was calming down, it was peaceful here...Fred's presence reassured him, and he enjoyed something he hadn't been able to for some time...the simple stillness of life. He felt time slipping past them, and didn't care; in his dreams the sun was setting slowly, and the fields of the home he had grown up in carried a softness of their own. Oh, how he had needed this...

"Quite the woman, your wife." Fred broke the silence after who knows how long. "You did good there."

"I know." George felt himself smiling. He didn't even give in to the fear he'd carried over her pregnancy. "She is remarkable."

"You have no idea." Fred's eyes twinkled. George looked around at him, a question not needing to be asked on his lips.

Fred answered with a wicked grin. "She's taking on Mum even as we speak!"

WWWWWWW

George stirred quietly, and then blinked his eyes open. Dusk had fallen, nearly dark now, and a lone lamp cast shadows in the room. He still felt groggy and sluggish...and thirsty.

"Here." Alf's voice came to him, and George turned his head to the sound. His son was beside him, holding a glass of cold water to his lips, and helping to lift his head.

The liquid slid down his throat, helping to revive him, though he could still feel the effects of the drug. He closed his eyes as he drained the last of the water, and sank back down on to the pillow. He knew what he'd dreamed, but he was still ashamed of facing his son. "I'm sorry, Alf." He managed to whisper.

He didn't quite call George stupid, as Fred predicted, but not far off. "Don't be silly. It's all fine now." Alf's voice was kind, although George imagined that his thoughts a few hours previously would have been much angrier. Still, it was a start, and he opened his eyes.

"Alf, I know you're not irresponsible or foolish, and it was very wrong for me come down on you like that. You are always great about helping out around the house, you do a magnificent job with your young cousins, and Freddo adores you. I could not ask for a better son." He said, making a point of keeping eye contact with the boy.

Alf blushed brightly and blinked once, taking a second to compose himself. "I'm not _perfect_, Dad." He finally stammered out. "I've screwed up plenty of times."

George let himself chuckle. "I don't want you to be perfect. I expect you to be a normal fifteen year old. But I do know that in no way would you ever endanger Freddo, and I'm sorry I didn't realize that more clearly at the time."

"Right." Alf swallowed once, and put the now empty water glass down on the night stand. "So if I don't have to be perfect...why do you think YOU have to be perfect?"

George just sighed, sinking back in to the pillow. "Right now I feel like everyone else expects me to be perfect. I just want to do everything right, make everything wonderful for the family, for the new babies...and the whole Percy thing...ugh." He cringed, because that was the one thing he had no easy solution for.

"I don't think my new siblings will be particularly concerned if their room starts off a bit small." Alf pointed out. "Since they will be predominantly sleeping most of the time. And CJ and I could always bunk together..."

"No!" George said at once, and seeing how his reaction startled Alf, he tried to explain. "Growing up as we did, Alf, mum and Dad couldn't afford much, but they always made sure we never had to share a room."

Alf gave him a bemused smile. "Except you DID share a room, of course." He pointed out.

"Fred didn't count." George objected. "I mean, we practically finished each other's sentences."

"Have you heard CJ and I together when we get going?" Alf nudged him. "Anyway, we appreciate that you want us to have our own space, but I'm saying we could make a sacrifice for the family. Even if only for a little while. But never mind that...why are you suddenly Uncle Percy's keeper?"

Exhaling slowly, George scooted up a little bit on his pillows. "I think it was easier when everyone in the family assumed I'd botch things up."

"My fault. Sorry." Alf teased.

"Ha, I suppose it is." George rubbed his face. "Anyway, as things have gone on, it's funny, but people seem to come to me more and more for help. I don't really mind, usually...Ron wants to have a chat over something, or Charlie owls me for advice on his newest girlfriend...normally I find it amusing." George worked things out in his head. "The one person who never comes to me FOR anything is Percy. Which is why when everyone started to insist that I need to solve whatever Percy's situation is, it stuck me as beyond bizarre."

"CJ and I were talking about it in the park today." Alf admitted. "It's like people don't go to Bill as much and now they come to you."

"Exactly. It was never my job to fix things. My job was to make people laugh. But I guess with Bill living the farthest away, save Charlie, and his job taking him to a lot of different places...well, I'm here, I guess." George shook his head gently, and Alf poured him another glass of water from a pitcher. "Thing is, as much as you could be a loner in this family, Percy was one. Bill and Charlie were tight. And as much as Fred and I complained about Ronnie, he was our third twin...although as we often pointed out, an inferior one. And Ginny was everybody's sweetheart...or holy terror, depending on her mood." George grimaced slightly. "I just don't understand how everyone suddenly thinks he's going to confide in me."

"It must be frustrating." Alf commiserated. "But I feel obligated to tell you that if you should decide that now would be a good time to hunt Uncle Percy out at this moment, I am entreated with keeping you right here. I have no intention of getting on Miss Shell's bad side!"

"To the point where you'd risk getting on mine?" George joked back.

"Heck, I'm already on your bad side...grounded, remember?" Alf raised eyebrows at him pointedly.

"Stop it. You know you're not." George squeezed his hand gently.

"I figured, but I was still going to make you say it."

They were quiet for a few moments, and George knew that he still felt groggy enough to sleep but he had other needs at the moment. "Where is CJ, Alf?"

"He was in the room until just before you woke up, then Freddo called. He just went to settle him in." Alf gave George a squeeze of understanding. "You want me to get him for you?"

George gave half a nod, and Alf made for the door, but there was no need...CJ had just re-entered. "Your turn to watch him." Alf punched CJ lightly on the shoulder, and left the room.

CJ stood a little awkwardly off to the side. "Are you feeling better...Sir?"

George reached out to him, and CJ came up to the bed awkwardly. "Sit." George commanded, and CJ did.

George took his hand. "I love you. You are my son. I don't care if Amos Diggory is running around out there with your DNA. And I am beyond sorry that I hurt you. It was never my intention. Please forgive me."

It took all of CJ's resolve not to break down in front of him, and he pulled the youngster into a tight embrace. Finally, CJ replied in a shaky voice, that let George know that things really would be fine:

"Just get better, Dad."


	24. Ch 24 Breathing Room

Michelle arrived at the Burrow via floo, as apparating while pregnant seemed to throw her system off. The Burrow had an open connection with all of the children's houses; Molly had always wanted to make sure that any of their offspring could arrive quickly in an emergency. It was just after dinner time and the living room was unoccupied; she could hear Arthur and Molly from the kitchen, and to her surprise, Charlie.

That Charlie was here was a relief; she had always been most partial to him of all of George's brothers. Perhaps because she had first met him back in Salem when she still thought George was a muggle; she knew he had seen how her love for George had grown. She dusted herself off, and waddled resolutely towards the rest of the family.

Charlie spotted her first; he rose up quickly with a flash of a smile that was so like George's. "Hey, you...should you be traveling here in your condition? Let me get you a chair..."

She answered his smile firmly, as Arthur and Molly turned around in surprise. "Thank you, Charlie...I was going to insist on standing, but it's been a long day and my feet are rather tired...it's good to see you."

Molly was automatically making tea, flustering over her arrival. "Really, Michelle, I know how I felt when I was carrying George and Fred...I can't believe George let you come over!"

Michelle looked her over with raised eyebrows. "On a good day, George isn't the sort who would give me orders, Molly...although he might ask me not to go out if he was worried. But today isn't a good day; George, frankly, is in far worse condition than I am."

Arthur had come over and sat across from her, his friendly face creasing with worry. "Is George ill, then?"

"In a way, I suppose he is. Perhaps you are unaware..." (She knew he wasn't) "But there has been quite a hubbub at the house today. George is in the middle of trying to put an addition on the house, because it is exceedingly important to him that his children have the sort of home environment he had here. He spent the day wrangling with contractors, from what I understand weathering at least one major plumbing disaster, all the while staying in contact with both branches of the store and trying to get some work done on that contract that he feels will put the entire company at a new level. And then he had a dust up with the boys over a misunderstanding that he feels _terrible_ about. To say nothing of the fact that he is continually worried about me, after my last pregnancy."

"Oi." Charlie rubbed the back of his neck., as Molly handed tea out to the group. "Sounds like he's got more than he needs on his plate, eh? I've got a few weeks off, and I'd be happy to help him out, you know."

Michelle felt a wave of gratitude at this unexpected boon, though it had not been her point in coming here. "Thank you, Charlie...I have a couple ideas on that, that I'll speak to you about later. But first, I just thought I'd say, that given how much George is handling, it might not have been optimum to have him get bombarded from sun up to sun down with requests to fix Percy's life." She paused met Molly's eye firmly. "It might have been particularly burdensome if he were to receive a _scathing howler_ that shredded him for not having already solved whatever is up with Percy, some eight hours after the first direct appeal."

There was a dead silence in the room as the two women locked gazes; Molly looking slightly guilty but more defensive, and Michelle's stony poker stare unwavering. Arthur looked from one to the other, rather flustered. "Um, you know, I think I'll take a little stroll out to my work-shed to look at that muggle generator..."

"I'll join you!" Charlie said hastily. Both men beat a cowardly retreat as fast as humanly possible from the suddenly uncomfortable kitchen.

Molly jutted her chin out slightly. "I am worried about Percy, Michelle. It was not my intent to upset George..."

"Molly..." Michelle spoke quietly but with firmness. "Nobody sends a howler without intending to upset somebody; that is the very purpose of one. I realize that you would not have known what George was going through..."

"Percy is in danger!" Molly was fighting for composure.

"And George just nearly had a nervous breakdown!" Michelle replied, letting her voice rise slightly. She took a deep breath, and then on impulse grasped Molly's hand. "Look, Molly...I know how much you love all your children. And I know if Freddo were in danger and I needed Alf's help, I'd be desperate over it. I _know _this!" She looked Molly in the eye. "And George loves Percy, and George wants to help. But he doesn't know how, because he and Percy have never communicated like that. And you can't expect him to have actually gotten anything accomplished within one afternoon, when this has been building for several months? Molly, I'm not kidding...George was a sobbing wreck when I got home."

"Oh!" Molly buried her head in her hands. "I don't want to hurt George...I never would. But even if he doesn't realize it...Percy has always been closest to him. George and Fred always mattered more to him than any of the others; I know how much he hides it. I just thought that Percy would listen to George if George said he was worried about him."

"Molly." Michelle's voice was soft. "George will try...but I think we've all gotten so used to him handling things as they come along that we've cast him as a super-human of sorts, and he needs a break. I have some ideas on that account, but first I just need you to understand..." Michelle took a deep breath. "You have a power over him, Molly, that I don't think you realize. Your praise means more to him than just about anything else...I see it in his eyes when it's as simple as you complimenting a dish he's cooked. That howler today nearly gutted him. Please, I'm begging you, don't do that again." Michelle's voice became coaxing.

Molly dabbed at her eyes. "I didn't think..." She paused, and gave a low chuckle. "Well, that's it exactly; I _didn't_ think. Truth is, most of the boys would let a howler from me run off their backs. But since George and I got past this misunderstanding we had after Fred died..." She met Michelle's glance and saw that she understood. "I never realized how much I mattered to him. I hope he can forgive me."

Michelle was thinking over Alf, and CJ, and how they had gotten past the ugly blow up this afternoon to hover with worry over their anguished father. "I don't think there's any question of that." She gave a sigh, and drank down her tea. "But I need to take care of him...he needs a break, and I've got a few ideas." She gave a cryptic smile. "He might fight me on this."

Molly managed a wan smile and squeezed Michelle's hand back. "I doubt he'll win, dear."

WWWWWWW

George woke up entirely refreshed the next morning. It was early...not much after 6am; not so surprising when you considered that he had been sleeping, since 6pm, with just a short time that he was awake talking to CJ and Alf. He turned over; Michelle was beside him, quite sound asleep; he'd had no idea when she'd come back. A wave of love and appreciation flowed over him; he didn't know anybody else who would have been able to handle him as the mess he'd been last evening.

He knew, in the back of his mind, that he still had a hundred things to do, and he worried that once he got started on his myriad of projects that what happened yesterday could happen again. And he didn't want that...he never wanted to blow up at the boys for no good reason, ever. But at the moment he was forcing himself to forget everything; maybe he could take a morning off from his projects and just _be_ for a little bit.

His stomach grumbled; he'd had no dinner the night before, and quietly he slipped out of bed, pulling the sheet around his wife with a loving touch. He snuck in to the hallway; Hagrid came up and butted his head against his leg; Rufus slinked quietly out of Alf's room and scooted ahead down the stairs. George headed in to the kitchen with his menagerie, glad to know the boys seemed to still be sleeping, even Freddo.

He started the coffee, and cheerfully fed the cat and dog, and tried to decide if he felt up to making something for breakfast, or if he just wanted to go with that revolting muggle cereal Alf and Michelle still had a taste for. The problem was solved for him, however, when he spotted a large, tawny owl pecking at the window. It was Charlie's owl Horatio, a large beast used to long hauls, but the package he carried was a box with Molly's handwriting on it, a note taped to the top.

Horatio accepted an owl treat as George removed the package, and watched with wide golden eyes as George read the note.

"_I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday, dear. I know you're worried about Percy too, but we'll get to the bottom of this as a family. Please forgive me...I would not see you hurt by my thoughtless anxiety. I love you. Mum."_

George penned back the reply as Horatio waited, clearly having been told there would be a response.

"_Mum...love you too. Stop worrying...about me and Percy. We'll get through it together. George."_

Horatio took off as George opened the box, to discover eight still-warm, oversized, bursting with mouth watering fragrance cinnamon buns!

"Oh, wow..." George nearly drooled. "She should send howlers more often!" He commented to the cat, who was looking up at him curiously.

Before long he was sitting on the back patio, with a large cup of coffee and two buns, the newspaper in his hand and a fresh day before him.

He got lost in a story about the Holyhead Harpies when Michelle's touch surprised him; he turned and smiled up at her, as she wrapped her arms around him. Her face was vaguely stern, however.

"George...please tell me after you collapsed from trying to do too much, that you did not get up early to make cinnamon buns??" She scolded, even as she kissed him just above his scar.

"Are you accusing me of using my culinary skills to assuage my guilt over my entirely irrational behavior yesterday?" He managed to joke. "Wrong Weasley. If you asked if my mother were trying to assuage her guilt over her irrational behavior, well..."

"Ah." Michelle smiled, and sat beside him, she'd brought out a roll for herself as she'd found them in the kitchen. "Then I can eat mine with a clear conscience."

They enjoyed each other's company in the quiet stillness of the morning, holding hands over the table. On the lawn, George saw a small rabbit disappear into a hedge; Hagrid lifted his head but knew it was futile; Rufus rested on the railing, four paws tucked neatly under him as he kept an eye out for gnomes. George gave a great sigh. "I am a huge idiot, I know."

"You are not. It isn't idiocy to have a big heart, George." She slid her eyes over to him. "I'm sorry I had to cast a legilimens yesterday."

"I was wondering if I dreamed that." George was rather surprised; it was a complicated spell he hadn't been aware she knew. "I don't mind...I really don't know how I would have ever explained myself...but how did you even know how to do that?"

Michelle shrugged. "I wasn't sure it would work. They taught it to us in college...theoretically if you have a patient who is too badly hurt to tell you exactly what happened to them, you should be able to find out that way. I was actually never very good at it, and it really only works for me if the person I'm trying to read is completely open to it. It would seem that you trust me." She quipped.

"Are you kidding? At the moment you were a life preserver for a drowning man." He stretched slightly. "I think I've made everything right with the boys."

"I'm sure you have." She winked at him. "And you can make it more right over the next week."

"Pardon?"

Michelle reached over and kissed him, deeply. "You need a break, George." She said, looking into his eyes as she stroked his cheek. "I worked out a few things with Charlie last night...he's in from Romania. He's going to stay here and organize the addition to the house. If he can handle Dragons, he can handle contractors. Second, Fleur has very gladly agreed to let Victoire stay with me for the week, to help out with Freddo. Third, after a conversation with Ron he has most eagerly agreed to back off on the warehouse to take over store management in full for the next seven days. So everything is set."

"Set for what?" George asked, cautiously.

"For you to go muggle camping with the boys in America." Before George could protest, she kissed him again. Letting him come up for air, finally, she went on. "Jimmy always goes camping during this time of year, and after I owled him he's ecstatic at the thought of you, Alf, and CJ joining him and Tony. Hermione very kindly made the travel arrangements; you leave here at 5pm tonight."

George's head was spinning. "But...the store...and you...the twins...I couldn't possibly!"

"You can, and you WILL." She added, holding on to his hand. "Ron ran the store for an entire year and made a huge profit; and you are not the only person who can spell a coin." She handed him the chanted galleon. "If I need you to come back, if I go in to labor, I will let you know. But George, you need this." She chewed on her lip in thought, and then continued. "And I think the boys need this too. CJ and Alf are growing up, George...they're really young men. There aren't going to be too many more chances like this with them."

That brought George up short. True enough, the two boys were now nearly as tall as he was. There was still an element of childhood about them, but equally there were times when they showed surprising maturity. They were planning futures...at least Alf was. George could see his skill as a fine healer in how his mind worked, and Alf talked openly with Harry whenever he could about a pilot program being put together by the ministry that combined muggle and magical healing. CJ kept his hopes for the future closer to the vest, which he supposed was understandable given where he was coming from.

"Sometimes..." He admitted quietly. "When I look at Freddo, when I see him doing these amazing things, I wonder if that's what Alf was like when he was a baby. I wonder if he would have the same trick of turning his head a certain way when he was thinking about something, or if he used to grunt in frustration when he was trying to do something and he couldn't." George picked at the remains of his bun as he paused. "I missed so much with him. Not my fault, I know, but I still wish I could have been there, could have seen his first steps and heard his first laugh."

"I bet you do." Michelle looked at him with warm eyes. "And with CJ you'd have never had the chance. But you have now, George."

"Alright." He said, letting a full smile slowly spread over his face. "I think it sounds brilliant, really... and contrary to what you may think, I have no real fear walking away from the store for a bit, or letting Charlie fight with the contractors. It's just you being pregnant..." He paused. "And, Percy."

"Ah. Percy." Michelle sighed. "Can you get hold of him today?"

"I have to try, Shell." George squeezed her hand again. "There are some things Penny said...even if Percy refuses to tell me what's happening, which is quite probable, I need to make sure Percy knows that...that I don't blame him for Fred. I've tried telling him before, but I've got to make him believe it. Then I can go away with the boys and not worry."

"Fair eough." Michelle gave George a little nod. "Shall we wake up the boys, you think?"

Just at that moment, even from outside, they could hear the thundering down the stairs of teenage feet. Both boys pulled up abruptly at the doorway to the porch, breathless.

"OH!" Alf gasped. "You're HERE."

"Excellent grasp of the obvious." George's eyes twinkled at them, even as he realized that they both must have been worried sick when they got up and he was gone. "And I'm fine."

"Of course you are." Alf said, pretending that he hadn't been worried at all. CJ snorted.

"Molly sent over cinnamon buns." Michelle added.

Both boys eyes lit up. "Wicked!" Alf said, and the two of them charged back in to the kitchen to stake their claim.

"I'll go get Freddo." George chuckled. "He's going to have to learn fast not to let a sleeping bun lie."

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

Whew. One heck of a couple of days here.

And Alf takes the world's LONGEST showers, which is why I have time to be writing.

Miss Shell just came up and told us her master plan for getting Uncle George…Dad…hell, I am afraid to call him that _here, _in this one place where my father still lives for me, other than my nightmares…anyway, her grand plan for getting him to be less coiled than a Burmese python trying to take down a dragon is the three of us (me, Alf and him) going camping. A road trip to America, and visiting Alf's old friend Tony.

The whole experience yesterday was one hell of a roller-coaster. First I go and blurt out to Alf that I have a crush on his sister, causing him to nearly get his head taken off. Then he draws the attention of this attractive muggle girl. Finished up by us coming home to George NEARLY taking him out in the only case of irrational behavior I have ever seen from him. Then he didn't throw the same at me, and it hurt.

Man, how screwed up am I that I was upset that George didn't chew my ass out like he did Alf's?

Late last night, after everything had finally quieted down but before Miss Shell came back from The Burrow, Alf and I finally had a little chat ourselves. And I told him what HADN'T happened, at first, that George had acted like I was Alf's friend who just happened to be there when Alf had gotten in to deep trouble.

Alf's reaction was pretty much as I would have expected: he reached over and slapped me upside the head. Not too hard, thankfully. And yeah, I went on to explain that George had made it pretty clear to me that he hadn't meant it the way I thought he had. I _didn't_ tell him that I slipped and called George 'dad' to his face. Alf's the only other person who's heard me refer to George that way, so I don't know why I didn't tell him, except it seems very private.

And daring, of course. I still have issues to deal with, major ones. I am so close to solving them, though…and I so want, for when I do solve them, to know that I will still be a son to him once I've dodged my father's final orders. Somehow, I believe that I can expose Amos Diggory in some way that will let me break ties from him finally and be free to be a part of the family that wants me…the family that chose me.

It will happen. It must. I swear.

But for now, I have to figure out what the heck one brings on a camping trip to someplace called the Berkshires. I'm thinking brooms might be out of order. Just a guess.

WWWWWWW

Michelle had gone to lie down for a nap, at George's urging; Freddo was likewise out, and the boys were in the shower. George had gotten an Owl from Penny that Percy was back, had come in and gone for a lie in himself, George had made it clear that he expected to be told when his brother was awake. He hadn't varied one bit from his plan on confronting his brother. He could not go away with any kind of clear conscience if he didn't at least try.

In the meantime…George puttered about the kitchen a bit, before he found himself at the table, loosely sketching.

"Da-aa-aa-ad." Alf leaned over his back draping an arm around him, quite deliberately turning three simple letters into a multi-syllable word. "That's NOT a firework you're designing, is it?" He accused, gently.

"Not at all!" George protested. "It's more like a roman candle."

Alf raised a single eyebrow, and then they both broke in to smiles, before George continued. "I know, I know…putting it away now. Just trying to kill time until I can talk to Percy, really, before…" He paused. "Did Michelle speak with you boys about our trip?"

"She did." Alf came around the table and sat across from George, taking away the sketch as he did so. "I think it's going to be hilarious watching you and CJ on a camping trip."

"I've been camping before…"

"A _muggle_ camping trip." Alf added, taking up a quill and making notations on the parchment. "But I think it sounds pretty great, really. CJ is _pretending_ to be all indifferent, but he's been packing for a solid twenty minutes now. Alf gave a little smirk. "And HERE."

George took the drawing back, and gasped. "Bloody hell…I'd been working on this for three weeks!"

"Working on that while doing about a thousand OTHER things, Dad. Sometimes your head needs to be cleared up a bit to get creative." Alf cleared his throat as he heard Freddo making noises upstairs, and then the soothing sound of CJ's voice as he went to retrieve him. "And it sounds like the rugrat is up. Um, right about now is when CJ and I usually take him for his walk…if it's okay with you?" Alf looked quite serious now.

George blushed a little. "Of course it's okay. Really." George insisted, smiling over at CJ and Freddo as they came downstairs.

Alf leapt up. "I'll get the stroller ready, then."

CJ bounced Freddo up a bit, making him giggle, then went over George as the toddler stretched his arms out.

"Da goo?" Freddo head bumped his father.

"Ouch!" George mock yelled, proceeding to nuzzle Freddo's hair. "Yes, I'm good, you wild animal!"

CJ smiled over to him, and then as he swooped Freddo back up, he caught George's wistful look. "You could come with us." CJ glanced over towards the hallway. "How else will you get a chance to see Alf's new girlfriend?"

A voice called out from the front. "She is NOT my GIRLFRIEND, CJ!"

George gave a start. "What?"

CJ smirked. "Oh, didn't he tell you about the rather attractive muggle that helped tend to his poor injured face…"

"CJ…" Alf's voice rose in warning as he entered the kitchen.

CJ immediately thrust Freddo on George to dodge the tackle coming his way. "Bianca, her name was, and she made quite a point of saying how she would be there…" He darted around a now laughing George for protection. "After her tennis lesson today."

Alf's eyes were blazing blue chips of ice. "You are SO dead, CJ!"

"All the more reason that you should come with us." CJ looked down at George with an appeal. "Otherwise I might not make it back."

George hesitated. A laughing Freddo was looking up at him, obviously relishing his families return to the crazy norm it usually was. Alf, though still clearly thinking up a plan of revenge, was hiding a smile himself, and behind him George could feel CJ in one of his rare moods when he was perfectly happy, and would show it. But still…

"Go, George." Michelle appeared from the upstairs. "I will alert you as soon as Percy gets here."

"How…" He started.

She cut him off, handing him the old, abused cell phone that had once nearly ruined their relationship. "I charmed it. This will vibrate and buzz when I sent it a signal…you'll know Percy is here, and no muggle will think anything strange about it."

"Except that's a bloody old phone." Alf joked.

George just reached over and kissed her. "I do love you."

"Yeah, yeah, just GO, already. It's the only way I'll get any sleep." She pushed him gently away, stroked Freddo's hair, and winked at each of the teens. "And bring me some ice cream!"

WWWWWWW

The walk was fairly slow…George learned, for the first time, of Freddo's new-found love of naming everything and everything he saw, and wondered when his son had become such a chatterbox. He laughed with the boys at Freddo's antics, and quietly laughed at the boys, behind their backs, at the subtle changes that came over them whenever any attractive girl walked by. He hadn't quite realized they'd gotten to that age.

Michelle was right. He needed to take this camping trip with CJ and Alf. The chances to spend time with them were going to be fewer in the future.

He felt a little twinge at that, and resolved to pay better attention to Freddo, vowing to now miss anything.

CJ tugged at his sleeve. "That's HER." He whispered.

And he watched as Alf, as much as he had pretended he hadn't had a clue what CJ had been talking about, began to almost preen, standing taller and flashing a grin that George recognized rather too well.

"Hi, Alf." She came over to her, still carrying a tennis racket. She nodded over to CJ and winked down at Freddo. "Your face looks _loads_ better. I thought you'd have a pretty nasty bruise."

Oops, George thought.

"I must have had an excellent doctor." Alf recovered quite smoothly.

CJ rolled his eyes and George choked back a laugh.

"Bee-Bee!" Freddo cooed up at her.

"Hello, little guy." She replied, looking over at Freddo and then noticing George. "Oh, is this your Dad?"

"Oh, yeah…" Alf remembered George was there. "Bianca, this is my father, George Weasley."

"Pleased to meet you." George looked the young lady over carefully. Quite attractive, and she seemed nice enough. She absolutely oozed muggle, however.

"Bianca Ryan." She held her hand out, and he took it without breaking out over the sudden solemnity. "That's some strong family resemblance you have there." She quipped.

"You should see the rest of the family." George added.

After a few awkward seconds, CJ spotted an open swing. "Uncle George, why don't you and I get Freddo settled in, and maybe Alf and Bianca can get us some ice cream?"

"An excellent idea." George watched as Alf blushed exactly as he would have at the same age. And together CJ and George settled the chattering Freddo into his swing, watching as Alf and Bianca strolled away, seeing them giggling a little together, and he imagined what charming and funny things Alf might be saying.

"You're growing up too fast." He complained to CJ, as he started to push Freddo.

"Well, we can't exactly stop." CJ replied, leaning against a pole. "What do you think of her?"

"Dunno, really…she's very pretty, I suppose." George felt a slight well of protectiveness come over him. "I guess it would sound stupid of me to worry because she's, well, _from the other side of town._"

CJ got his hint. "She is pretty, and you're right, she's different. Of course, Alf moves pretty easy through both sides of town, after all."

"Right." George considered that. "And I used to think Michelle was different, too."

"Yeah, but she was an adult. I mean, if this gets more serious, what's he going to have to tell her about school and stuff? He'd have to just fill her with a bunch of lies. Not a good thing." CJ gave a little snort. "And talk about stupid…they've just met and have flirted for a total of an hour an a half. We're worrying for nothing."

"Right." George gave CJ a sideways look. "Why are YOU worrying about it, anyway?"

"Oh, it's just…I always pictured him with someone else." CJ's eyes went far away for a second, and George was about to quiz him about that when there was a loud buzz and a shake.. The cell phone.

Percy.

He looked over at CJ with wide eyes, and the young man came back to him. "You can go, Dad." His voice got quiet, knowing they were alone except for Freddo on the swings. "We can walk Freddo home, and we know how to contact you if we need to. We will do this."

"You're good boys." He reached over to give CJ a squeeze, though his pulse was already racing at the thought of the conversation to come with his brother. "I'll see you at home. Don't let Alf elope."

"Go." CJ nudged him. "And if he elopes, we'll bring her with us."


	25. Ch 25 Something wicked

George's head was whirling with questions after he'd apparated into a spot near to his back yard. He jogged lightly towards the house, wondering whether a joking line of questioning would work with Perce, or if he was suddenly going to have to be some kind of enforcer, like Bill would be: demanding answers without an option of refusal. He wasn't sure frankly that Percy would respond to bullying, either.

Percy, come to think of it, had seen his share of bulling when he was a kid, though not if Charlie was around. Other kids could be merciless, and their years at the local day school that had educated them before Hogwarts hadn't been kind to a bloke who'd been weak at Quidditch and far to brainy for his own good. Still, Percy had learned to combat the bullying, how to not respond when backed into a corner. No, that sort of attack wasn't going to work at all.

He spotted his wife first as he came in through the kitchen; Michelle's face was unreadable. "He's sitting on the patio out back, George." And she reached up and kissed him.

George went, as she indicated, to the back deck area; Percy's back was to him, standing and staring out over the yard into the woods, looking quite solitary and still.

"Hey, Perce."

His brother turned to him. There were dark circles under his eyes, which had a haunted quality to them. His hair was receding at what seemed to be a more accelerated rate, and he was thin, far, far to thin, even for Percy. His mouth twitched slightly, and his pale face was gaunt.

To hell with every other option.

George came forward and engulfed his brother in a hug.

Percy was startled for a second, and then returned the embrace rather awkwardly; he'd never dealt well with shows of affection. George frankly didn't care. He swallowed his fear and found his voice. "Oh, Perce, what the hell have you been doing?" He shook himself a little, and stepped back. "And whatever it is, _stop._"

Percy gave a dry little laugh, though he seemed shaky; George led him over to a chair and sat beside him; Michelle had left a pitcher of iced tea and he poured them both glasses; George was disturbed to see Percy's hand shake a bit as he lifted his. "Stop isn't really an option right now, George. I'm, frankly, in it too deep."

"In _what_?" George asked, pained. "Percy, please...talk to me."

Percy looked at him for a good number of seconds before responding. "Alright, George. I trust you. I have to, actually; it's in your best interest that I keep going."

"Rubbish." George said at once. "Nothing is in my best interest that lets you do this to yourself."

Percy sighed long, and drummed his fingers on the table, looking down at the weathered wood as if it would display his inner most thoughts. Finally he looked back up at George. "You can't tell anyone else, if I let you know. You won't want to, in fact. But I'd rather somebody did know, in case...well, in case things aren't working out so well in the end."

George felt a sick tremble inside at those words, but he gave his brother a slow nod. "Alright, Perce. You have my promise."

Percy took another sip of tea, and let his story begin.

"About a year ago, Shacklebolt took me in to his confidence about the situation in Eastern Europe. You know some of that; we spoke about my concerns a while ago. But the Minister was looking to set up a spy over there; he's not sure that we aren't being used, as it were, by both sides in this mess. He had his ideas about who he wanted..." Percy paused. "And I convinced him otherwise. I put myself forward."

"Percy..." George started, but he came up short as Percy held up his hand.

"Please, George, let me get this all out." He set his shoulders and went on. "For the past year, I've been masquerading is a squib named Ivan Presliezevic, thanks to ample doses of polyjuice. It's taken me away from home more and more frequently, from a few days a month to three days a week lately. That's why I look like shite, frankly, the repeated use of the polyjuice is just brutal. I have to say it is effective...and of course, it's no stretch for me to play a sniveling coward."

George snorted in anger, but let Percy keep going.

"It's getting worse over there. And there are things going on that I can't quite reach. George, there is something about that contract they gave you...I'm pretty sure Filipowski was manipulated into giving it to you, and equally sure that he was manipulated into extending out the deadline and changing the celebration. I just can't for the life of me figure out why." Percy held up his hand once more. "Look, I know how good your work is, it's not that I'm surprised you go the contract. But remember where I come from, George; that I was at the ministry in the Voldemort days. I can _smell_ deceit a mile away, and this whole situation stinks."

George swallowed his insulted pride, and considered what Percy was saying. "I can't think of any way in which my having that contract could be of import, Perce. My products are failsafe; they cannot be used to _hurt_ anyone. How could their existence be used to foment any kind of discord?"

"Eastern Europe is fragile, George; an amalgam of nations put together in a hodge-podge, some of which have a history of enmity that goes back thousands of years. Warring factions composed not only of wizards but of hundreds of magical beings far beyond what we even know here, that have been held together for a short time in a peaceful union. Each of which expects representation in that celebration."

"And I've included that, Perce...I'm not a complete dunce at history. What I have planned can bring joy to millions." George insisted earnestly.

"Yes...if you deliver it." Percy paused importantly. "The only thing I can think of that would result in disaster, is that after all the years of buildup, you fail. If you don't fulfill that contract, and if Filipowski is left holding the bag on a shell of a ceremony...it would redefine chaos, George. All those factions at each other again, each blaming the other. Leaving the region ripe for another Voldemort; another Wizard with more ego than sense. Chaos breeds evil."

"But Percy, if somebody is setting me up to fail, why on earth would they _extend_ my deadline?" George asked, frowning as he considered everything Percy was telling him.

A fist slammed on the table. "I don't _know_, George, and it's making me crazy. I see it, I smell it, but it's just beyond my reach...like there's something in the background hidden that will derail everything." Percy huffed, and then looked with pained eyes to George. "And Amos Diggory is involved somehow."

"And that _doesn't_ surprise me." George admitted. "I hardly need to explain to you that I don't trust him."

"Nor I. Not since I saw what he did to CJ that day." Percy shuddered. "Still, it's all so nebulous." Here Percy paused. "And something disturbing happened a few weeks ago, George. My persona, if you will, is the sort of dunce that the darker wizards use when needed and ignore when not, not unlike wormtail, I suppose..."

"You are _nothing_ like wormtail!"

"...anyway, I've been hearing that this new dark lord has a right hand man, but I've never known who that was. Until this week, George. This week I learned who is most deeply involved in fomenting this revolt." Percy's eyes were dark pools of worry. "George, it's _Lucius Malfoy._"

A sudden chill seemed to fall over them, despite the warmth of the summer day.

"Malfoy. I see." George paused in thought. "He didn't recognize _you_, I hope?"

"Under polyjuice? I'm not incompetent, George." Percy bristled a bit, and George grasped his forearm.

"I know you're not, Perce. But it's hard to not be yourself, even when you look like somebody else. Remember the story Ron told us, about running in to Dad on the elevator while he was under polyjuice, and how hard it was for him to keep in character? All our lives we grew up with Lucius Malfoy as being against everything that our family stands for. It took a medical miracle with Alf to make me accept Draco, no matter how unlike his father he has become. It wouldn't surprise me if you had, when he surprised you, made some show of shock to the man; that's all I'm saying."

Percy calmed down at George's words. "I may have gaped...but that's well within the idiocy of what I portray, I can assure you. He has no clue I'm a Weasley."

George sincerely hoped so. Malfoy had had little use for their family even in his best days, and now he was, according to Draco, completely embittered at how much he had lost versus what the Weasleys had gained: respect, power, and prestige. If he even for a moment suspected he had Percy at his disposal, it would not go well with his brother.

That realization sunk in hard, and George frowned with worry, gazing over at his brother, who seemed to have aged so much these past weeks. "Why, Percy? Why did you do this? Please tell me this doesn't go back to Fred?" He remembered Penny's accusations acutely. "Tell me you don't still feel guilty, that you don't think I still hate you, that this isn't why you've thrown yourself into this mess?"

Percy's eyes softened. "That isn't it, George, and it hasn't been for a while. I know you've forgiven me..."

"...there wasn't anything to forgive!"

"...but there's more to it than that. I've never forgiven myself, George." Percy finished.

"For Fred?" George asked, gently.

"For abandoning the family to begin with." Percy blinked and looked away. "I refused to believe Dad about the ministry, I refused to believe I could be taken in, I stayed away because I was afraid to go back, and it wasn't until the end, until the last second, that I gathered up the courage to face you all. If I'm honest, I feared facing the family more than I feared death eaters." Percy cleared his throat. "Watching Fred die was bad enough, but having it happen knowing I had wasted all those years, years I could never get back with him, years of pranks he would have pulled on me and jokes he would have made...that gutted me, George. I could make up for lost time with everyone else, but there'd never be a chance with Fred now."

George was silent in response. He wouldn't deny Percy's feelings; he knew he could tell Percy a thousand times over that none of it mattered anymore, and that wouldn't help, because it mattered to Percy. He could insist angrily that the answer to not having been there fifteen years ago wasn't throwing himself into a crazy war and getting himself killed now, but that wouldn't help either, because Percy was, as noted, in too deep, and didn't need more guilt on his head.

"Alright." George said quietly. "I don't like it, but alright."

Percy blinked up at him in surprise. "What do you mean, alright?" He asked slowly.

"I mean I have your back on this. I mean that I will defend your choices to the family, even if I can't explain to them what they are. You have no idea how worried everyone has been, Perce, and they're expecting me, for some ungodly reason, to put a stop to it. But I won't. I will back you up. On two conditions." George paused. "First, you have to tell Penny _something_, Perce. She's sick with worry, and she is the mother of your children. I understand if you can't tell her everything, but tell her what you can."

Percy gave a slight nod, giving in to the request without argument. "And the second condition?"

George met his eye with an unblinking gaze. "I buried one brother too young. I don't want to lose another, Percy."

"Not even me, eh?" Percy joked awkwardly.

"Don't!" George hissed. "I mean it, Perce. I can't lose you too. I just...can't. Maybe you don't understand what you mean to this family, but don't count yourself as negligible. You're not. You never were."

Percy seemed robbed of speech for several moments; some of the lines of worry seemed to have faded from his face. "Thanks, George. I'd like to think that I knew that, but maybe I needed to hear it anyway."

"Then I'm sorry I never said it before." George thought for a moment. "Do you need anything? Peruvian darkness powder? Extendible ears? Something?"

Percy did laugh at that. "I've been stocking up at the store for a while, George. Heck, the ministry is your best customer, incognito."

"More fools they. There's a 10 bulk discount for corporate customers." George quipped, and after a moment, they both started laughing.

Alf and CJ came around the back door then, CJ jogging ahead of Alf and the stroller, a package in his hands. "Ice cream for Miss Shell. We couldn't spell it to stay cold." CJ paused at the door. "Good to see you, Uncle Percy." He said, before bounding inside.

Alf had picked up Freddo out of his confines, holding him as he came up to the patio. "Hey, Freddo... look, it's Uncle Percy!"

Percy's eyes were wide. "I hadn't realized how long it had been since I saw him. You're a big boy, Freddo."

"Big Boy!" Freddo agreed with a grin. And without prompting he reached out to Percy, who took him with some surprise. "You stay?" Freddo asked, reaching up for Percy's glasses.

Percy laughed again, a sound that relieved George to no end, even as he removed his specs from harms way. "Not tonight, I'm afraid, but I will see you soon, big guy, I promise."

Freddo frowned in thought. "Promise?" He said, pushing his lower lip out.

Percy looked at Freddo for a moment, and then over at George, with meaning.

"I promise."

WWWWWWW

George watched as CJ half stumbled on the trail that lead towards their campsite, somewhere in a hilly, woodsy section of the western part of Massachusetts. He reached over to steady him, even as they both stifled yawns. Alf, somehow, was much more active, and seemed almost impervious to the time change.

Hermione had arranged for them to arrive at the Salem ministry, and there George received a rental car, a map, and a functioning cell phone (though he still had nightmares about his older one). By the time all formalities were finished, it was nearly 3pm Eastern Daylight Time, or in other words 9pm for him. It had been a two hour drive after that towards something called Greenfield and a specific camping ground, where Jimmy had come down to meet them excitedly.

Now they were hiking towards the area where, Jimmy had informed him, "Tony and I have already set up tents...we knew you'd be ruddy tired with your, um, _jet lag_!" George had been grateful to know that there would be little set up work involved, that Tony was already setting up for dinner, but he was amused at the same time. It wasn't like he'd never been camping before.

Alf scampered up ahead of them, chatting a mile a minute with Jimmy, without so much as pausing for breath, while George and CJ brought up the rear. CJ still adjusted the heavy rucksack periodically (normally they'd have spelled the things to be feather-light), and he had to be very careful of his footing.

"Did Alf take a pepper-up potion before we left Godric's Hollow?" CJ grumbled.

Alf turned and looked CJ with a wicked grin. "You're out of shape, CJ. Maybe you should think about becoming a beater instead of a chaser."

"Oi!" George protested. "Beaters are not necessarily out of shape!"

Alf just rolled eyes at him.

Jimmy gave a chuckle. "It's a hell of a climb, I know. A lot of other campgrounds have gone more _refined_..." Jimmy actually shuddered, "...but what Tony and I say is, that's not really camping, right? This place is totally rustic, great little creek to fish in, able to be totally isolated from other campers, lost of top notch hiking."

"I hope..." George pulled himself up a steep incline, extending a hand to CJ. "That we're not intruding too much." Clearly this seemed to be a father-son ritual.

"Not at all." Jimmy immediately replied. "We used to go with a couple of other families, but they've dropped off over the years. This is great...keep us from getting on each other's nerves."

Finally at the top of the small mountain George felt they'd climbed, they could look a head to a clearing and see a pair of tents about thirty feet away, protected at the edge of a grove of trees. Off to one side was a circle of stones, and Tony was tending to a brisk fire.

Alf sprinted forward, rucksack and all; CJ slid his off his back and moved to carry it slung on one shoulder, following at a purposely languid pace. "Left tent is for you boys!" Jimmy called out.

George had come up beside him. "I can't believe how much Tony has grown!" He mused. The young boy who he'd first seen as a bespeckled miniature of his father seemed to have been swallowed up by a young man with a ready smile and a confident aura.

"Yeah, I can't believe he's going to be off to college in another year. And I can't believe he has a girlfriend." Jimmy shook his head. "Actually dating one of the prettiest girls in school…_my _son…go figure! When I was in high-school I think the queen bee thought my name was 'dweeb'!"

"You might not want to repeat that story to your wife." George quipped, as he followed Jimmy to the tent to put his own bag down.

Jimmy looked a little worried. "I know Shell said you were a bit of a camper as a boy, but I'm not sure how _different_ that would have been for you lot."

George rolled his eyes at him. "Jimmy, if anything I am more prepared than most for a life without electricity!"

Then George threw open the tent flap, ducking lightly.

And he stood completely still for several seconds.

It was perfectly serviceable tent, about 8 by 10 and with a 6 foot peak, with two cots on either side of it, each with a sleeping bag. And it was about as foreign to George as flying on an airplane would have been.

Where was the kitchen? The bunk-beds? The running water? The LOO?

A memory came back to him, of the time they'd taken Harry to the Quidditch Cup, an event which had included taking up space in a muggle campground. He'd forgotten much of that night, if pressed, what he'd remembered is the panic at the end of the evening, and it being the first time his father had ever demonstrated that he actually trusted the twins with something more than demolition. "Look after the kids!" he'd implored, not with a fear that they wouldn't, but with a certainty that they would. George's next memory would have been about Ludo Bagman, who had taken a bet with Fred and George, one which involved all of their savings, and one which they had won. Ludo had paid them with leprechaun gold, gold that had disappeared into nothingness. That had sparked a year on blackmail campaign as he and his brother feared losing the very start of the dream they'd barely begun to have.

Funny how things turn out.

Anyway, what had been forgotten by bigger events came back now, full stop: the sight of Harry, standing in the opening of the tent his father had borrowed, with his mouth half open in shock. He and Fred had, as always, been more than willing to tease him.

"_Smells of ruddy cats, eh, Harry." Fred chipped in._

"_May even be a cat or two left in the folds." George called in. "But it could smell worse."_

"_Like your breath, if you keep your mouth open like that!" Fred finished, and they'd both gone to swipe at Harry's head._

_Harry had made just one comment under his breath, as he'd stared about with amazement: "I love magic!"_

For the first time George really digested that statement: Harry was stunned, not because of the smell or the heinous decoration of the accommodations, but because _muggle tents weren't like that_.

Oi.

He felt something at his side, and looked over to see CJ standing beside him, with an equally stunned look on his face.

"Oh. Yours too." CJ blinked just once.

George put his bag down on one of the cots, and turned back around. Across the campground, beside the fire, Alf had been keeping an eye out on them both. He took one look at their faces, and his own spread with a wide and wicked grin, as his eyes twinkled. "Wait till I walk you over towards the loo!" He promised.

CJ looked up at George, with an explanation. "Tony told us there are _facilities _about a 500 yards from here, has a couple of showers and a toilet. On the other side of the grounds."

George shook his head in disbelief. "Dad would be beside himself with giddiness." He muttered.

Alf laughed out loud as he began to roast a hot dog. Tony was telling him something that had him in stitches. CJ sighed. "He's going to be _insufferable_ all week, isn't he?" He groaned.

"Not if we don't let him." George winked, and CJ gave him a wide smile.

WWWWWWW

Amos Diggory sat in a dark, half hidden little pub in the outskirts of the new section of Dubrovnik, the area not frequented by tourists and mostly unknown to the world. Here, in this place, wizards of questionable leanings came and went, business was conducted quietly, bad drinking songs were sung in a variety of dialects. Amos had a taste for both the breaded veal dish that was the hallmark of the cook, and for people watching among the seediest of the seedy. Here, in this group he felt normal. Here, he felt sane.

"Presliezevic!" He called out, eying the mealy, arse-kissing squib who was often skulking about the place. "Let me buy you a beer, mate!"

"Ah, Diggory!" The man in question stooped slightly, in half a bow that showed he acknowledged Amos as his wizard-better. "Vot you do to honor me!"

Diggory chuckled. He wasn't sure why this bloke amused him, but he did. Perhaps it had to do with his stupidity and his weak command of English; though Ivan loved to listen to Amos talk, Amos felt entirely confident that he wasn't smart enough to understand half of what was being said. "How's the truffles going?"

Ivan lit up. "Vell, very very vell. What I find it mountains, is good, yes? Many, many truffles I find…is hard vork, but for me, is good…vat I can do though I am a low man, not like Diggory. You, Diggory…you vork hard?"

"Indeed I do, Ivan…indeed I do!" Amos was off, then, discussing at first generally the stories he had from his main job, as an advisor to the Filipowski government, and then just enough of a hint or two to indicate that he knew men who were far, far more powerful than the properly elected minister.

"Is good, you vork vell here…here in our home, is many weak wizards vill not take charge. And now ve have many sorts we not have before. Vot I say is, why need so many peoples? Ve was just fine, our peoples only here."

"Precisely!" Diggory, who in fact could care less what happened in Croatia as long as it worked towards his own goals of revenge, knew how to play to those of nationalistic fervor. And however dumb the squib was, he had an abundance of patriotism. "You will not have to wait long, I wage, to get your country back."

Of course, if the latest evil wizard Malfoy had thrown himself in with was as much of a nutter as always, squibs like Presliezevic probably wouldn't live very long in their new country. Amazing how they could never see it coming.

And speaking of Malfoy…

"You, there…" A cane tapped at Ivan's chair, rather hard. "Go get me a bottle of wine…I don't care if the proprietor tells you he doesn't have any. And a plate of _charcutterie_…that would be cold cuts to you, you simpering moron…and if you are a good boy, I might let you have our scraps."

Ivan stiffened perhaps a bit, but he never missed a beat as he bowed low. "Vot you vish, I vill do for you, Mister Malfoy…" And he slinked away.

Amos watched with a shrug as the younger man scurried away. "Subtle as always, Lucius. How's your plans?"

"Our plans." The elder Malfoy smirked. "Because I believe I will make us both quite happy with the recent turn of events."

"How so?" Diggory watched Malfoy carefully.

"Your boy is, as I well remember, under a certain vow. And that vow will require him to perform a certain act before his 16th birthday."

"As you well know, since you helped me garner my son's cooperation when he proved less than willing to be bound freely." Amos drained the last of his beer. "Boy's taking too bloody long to get it done. It's worrying me."

"Well, don't let it." Malfoy leaned forward. "You want that boy to wait until the last possible moment before deadline, if you want to really destroy George Weasley."

Diggory blinked, and then licked his lips. "Malfoy…you're sure? I don't want him dead, mind…I want him alive and suffering to see what I've wrought on him…a payback for what he wrought on me."

Lucious's eyes were cold, and his smile thin. "I am sure. That contract we arranged for him to get…he's investing a lot of money in it. And since you have, as I requested, persuaded Filipowski to put off the celebration, well, let's just say that when your boy goes to destroy that store, it's going to take every last hope and dream of the Weasley clan…because whether they realize it or not, George has become their patriarch." Malfoy's smile disappeared. "I wish my own progeny had a tenth of the leadership that Weasley has demonstrated. Well, they are _pureblood_, much to my disgust with what they've done with their talents."

Amos looked at Malfoy with curiosity now. Not that he didn't appreciate the help…how exactly George Weasley was destroyed was immaterial to him. But Malfoy had always seemed to find him more amusing in his pursuits…suddenly it was like it was his pursuit too. "Why do you care, suddenly?"

Lucius slammed the top of his cane down on the table, and his eyes narrowed. "Bloody embarrassment to wizards everywhere, those Weasleys. Arthur and his hundred offspring and grand offspring. They shouldn't by all that is right have anything; they should still be groveling for every scrap of food they eat. Instead, they have everything, everything that used to be MINE! Weasleys…I hate them all."

Ivan tripped as he neared the table, spilling the bottle of wine. Without warning Malfoy rose, and slashed at the prone squib repeatedly with his cane. Nobody moved to intercede, and he only stopped when he was tired. Presliezevic crawled away, whimpering and cringing, and apologizing; the proprietor brought over another bottle of wine.

Clearly in a much better mood, Malfoy nudged over some of the spilled food towards the squib. "Go on, boy, take your scraps. And thank you for providing some amusement for me, after all!"

WWWWWWW

Draco Malfoy watched his young son, now just seven years old, as he scampered over the Hogwarts grounds, chasing after a group of large, lopping puppies, three month old wolfhounds in Hagrid's care. Minerva McGonagall stood beside him.

"Thank you for allowing us to stay here over the summer, Professor." He said, not taking his eyes from the laughing, bright eyed boy.

"I only wish there were other children for Scorpius to play with." McGonagall gave a little glance over at her potions professor. "Are you sure this is what is best for him?"

"Quite sure." Draco's lips went in to a thin line.

Two weeks ago, he had come home to Scorpius crying and his father flailing at his son with his cane. Narcissa had decided to pretend to ignore the situation, as she had always done, and Pansy had already been passed out drunk. Draco had acted immediately, stupefying his father and then instructing the house elf to escort his child to his bedroom. Then he'd wheeled on his father, and blasted him verbally, barely containing his need to throttle him with his bare hands, and magic be damned.

His old man had been increasingly absent from Malfoy Manor, on some no doubt nefarious purpose in Eastern Europe. Draco had frankly been delighted to see him as little as possible. However, during those times that he was back, he was showing himself to be more like the old Lucius, the one who's wrath Draco had felt on more than one occasion, the one who felt himself to be empowered by the rise of the dark lord.

For a while after Voldemort's fall, Lucius had been almost conciliatory towards Draco, as he hoped to continue to bend Draco to his own view of life. Well, it wasn't going to happen anymore; Draco had been quite sure of it. He had his father's DNA, but that was the only connection they would have any longer.

But the conversation they'd had that day had frankly chilled him.

"_I won't have it, father. You nearly destroyed everything about this family, and it took everything I had, not to mention a bloody favor from Harry Potter, to prevent us from losing even this house. It's all in my name, and I don't care if it kills you, you will follow my rules. That includes that you are to never, ever strike Scorpius again!" Draco had kept his wand out and a watchful eye on his father._

"_Draco, my son…" Lucius attempted to be conniving. "Perhaps I acted rashly, but Scorpius was talking about the Weasleys as if they were our friends, and you know, my boy, that we are better than that."_

"_Better??" Draco had nearly laughed. "Father, perhaps you haven't noticed, but they now have all the power and even the money, not, that I suspect, they ever cared for either."_

"_But that may change." Lucius's voice became a caress. "I am working with a group in the Balkans…I swear to you, the wizard there will restore us to our former glory!"_

_Draco did laugh then, much to Lucius's confusion. "Father, forgive me…but you are OUT OF YOUR MIND! I remember Voldemort, and I don't remember his presence resulting in our glory. What I remember is you groveling at his feet and letting him torture you, me, and mother, and THANKING him for it. Tell me, father, do you imagine Arthur Weasley ever did that? Can you imagine George Weasley doing it now? Father, we were never as good as the Weasleys, even when they were poor and we were rich. Do you still really not understand that?"_

The end result of that conversation had been a violent duel, as Lucius had exploded in rage. Draco, however, was a formidable dueler, and though they had nearly destroyed the main room, neither had been hurt. Lucius left the house, supposedly for good.

But his mother had scolded him for not being a better son. Well, he knew Narcissa by now…his mother loved him, but not as much as she loved and worshiped his father. And his wife…well, whatever Pansy had been was pretty much destroyed by fire-whiskey now. He knew that as long as he lived in this house, he'd never be able to keep Scorpius safe.

He'd moved the boy to London, and spent some time seeking better quarters. But he feared ever being fully free of Lucius. Until, of all people, Harry Potter had suggested he talk to McGonagall about staying here full time. She'd agreed, and today they had finally settled in.

"This is the best place for Scorpius." Draco said, firmly. "My father is unable to reach him here. Let him do what he will; he is not my concern any longer."


	26. Ch 26 Two steps forward

The boys had managed to arrange their three cots with the heads of each one at the middle of the tent; Tony had hung a lantern in the center, so it cast a halo of light over the three of them. CJ was on his stomach, head laying on his folded arms, fighting to stay awake; Tony was propped up on his side, and Alf was propped up on one elbow.

"I'd suggest telling ghost stories, but I have a feeling that a), you guys wouldn't be scared, and b) anything you would counter with would leave me cowering under the cot!" Tony gave a wry grin.

"Ghosts are nice." CJ protested, fighting off a yawn.

"Most of them, anyway." Alf agreed. "Moaning Myrtle is kind of a pill."

CJ snorted. "Yeah, and how much time are you spending in the girl's loo, Alf?"

Seeing Tony's confusion, Alf explained. "She haunts one of the abandoned bathrooms at school. Died when she was about fifteen...she's barmy."

"The bloody baron is creepy too." CJ added, then explained. "Slytherin house ghost."

"Right." Tony shook his head. "I've read your Dad's books, most people think they're great fiction. It's a little strange hearing you lot talk about it as your daily life."

CJ gave a little sigh. "My brother was a ghost for a bit...got used to having him about. After I moved in with Alf's family, though, he had to stop."

Tony seemed to mull that over. "Most muggles would think that it was psychological...that you were just seeing your brother in your mind until you didn't need him any more." Noticing CJ's eyes widening and seeing his mouth settle in to a scowl, Tony hurried on. "I'm not saying I think that. What I was thinking is, maybe a lot of what muggles argue about as paranormal or psychosis might actually be us interacting with the magical world and not knowing it, or being afraid to see it for what it is."

Alf propped himself up more fully. "That's an idea..." He thought it over. "So, you still want to be a psychologist?"

"Yep...I'm looking into programs at UMASS and Boston University." Tony glanced between the two other boys. "But you know, I was thinking...I've kind of got a gift, knowing you lot. I mean, knowing that your world is there. Most muggles don't."

"Most muggles don't want to." CJ added, sinking back to the pillow.

"Maybe. A lot would probably be afraid. But I do kind of wonder if I could use that, somehow... combine my understanding of both worlds. Is it possible?" Tony turned to Alf, seeing CJ drifting off.

"It might be." Alf's voice became a whisper. "I know my Aunt Hermione is working with the English ministry on some increased cross-collaborations. I'd kind of counted on that myself...I think maybe becoming a wizard healer and a muggle doctor, you know?"

"You'd be good." CJ woke up enough to add in. "Smartest bloke in our year. I'll stick to animals."

Alf looked to Tony. "CJ is wicked good with magical creatures...unicorns and hippogriphs and merpeople and such."

Tony laughed. "The conversations I have with you guys!" He sank down. "Well, we best sleep. I can't promise merpeople tomorrow, but brook trout ought to be abundant. It better be, anyway, or we'll be eating peanut butter and jelly for dinner!"

WWWWWWW

Michelle was having a delicious dream…

She was camping with George…in a proper wizard campground, mind, not the silliness that her men were no doubt enduring at the moment. It was a beautiful sunset, and she had a glass of wine in her hand. Her newborn twins were being tended to by Molly back in England, of course; and Alf and CJ, those thoughtful boys, were gladly taking Freddo on a walk. Meanwhile, George was at the moment layering for her the most exquisite s'more ever known to man. Not that s'mores were a wizard concoction, but that had never stopped her clever, wonderful husband before.

As she watched , he was taking a perfectly toasted, home made marshmallow and smoothing it over fresh baked graham crackers, and a thin layer of pure Belgian chocolate was oozing out over the side. He came up to her, with that wicked grin of his on his face, and was just inches away from feeding it to her…

"WOOF!"

"That's not romantic, George…" She muttered.

"WOOF" Hagrid lifted his head up to her, and licked her face.

"Mrrrrrrrrrrreeeeew." Rufus added in for good measure.

_Damn it! _

She opened her eyes to see Hagrid pacing by the doorway, and Rufus inches away from her face. "You lot are lucky I can't move too fast, or you'd both be dead!" She huffed and lifted up her body, listening for little Freddo, or for Victoire, who was staying with her. But the house was quiet, except for the two animals and…perhaps…was there some sort of noise coming from downstairs.

Bother! She grabbed hold of her wand as a precaution, and worked her very pregnant body out of bed. With the dog just in front of her, and the cat behind, she was surprisingly quiet as she came down the stairs, and opened the door into the kitchen.

To find Percy, half collapsed at her table, bleeding and pale.

"Perce!" She yelped, putting her hand over her mouth.

"Thought you could help me." Percy murmured, managing a grim smile. "If I go home like this, Penny will kill me."

Michelle gave herself a little shake, and pulled it together. "Quite. I know I'd kick George's ass." She glanced upstairs to make sure that her niece and son were still not stirring, and then she set about accio'ing healing supplies. She made her way over to her brother-in-law even as a pile of potions and bandages zinged over to the kitchen table. "What in the hell did you do to yourself, Percy?"

Percy sighed, wincing and then sighing as Michelle touched salve to his battered face. "What did George tell you, Shell?"

"That you were up to something dangerous that I wasn't to ask about, and that you had his full support." She used her wand to evaluate his body carefully. "Somehow you haven't managed to break anything." She felt relief at that; repairing bones right now would take a bit of work, and she wasn't sure she was up to it. Bruises, however, were fairly easy.

"Right. Well, I ran afoul of somebody I was spying on." Percy smirked. "Didn't blow my cover, though. Almost did…really deserved getting the snot beaten out of me like that."

"Probably so." Michelle scolded, though she washed a few scrapes with great tenderness. "This has something to do with CJ, doesn't it?"

"Indirectly. And I'm not sure how." Percy met her gaze honestly. "Involves the whole family, I think. Lucius Malfoy has something to do with the chaos in Eastern Europe, and he hates us. I never quite realized how much until today."

"Hm. You do realize you've told me more in the past ten minutes than George did before he left for America, right?" She kept her work up, grateful to be dealing largely with non magically induced injuries.

"I trust you. As I do George." Percy sank back in the chair, and watched as Michelle began to combine the ingredients in a couple of vials. "I wish I had heard more."

"I'm glad you didn't. I'd hate to think what you would have suffered if you had." She passed a final vial over to him. "Here. You're suffering from polyjuice exhaustion. I'd recommend you stop taking it for a few weeks, but I doubt you'd listen to me."

"You are smart." Percy raised the vial to her, and drained it off. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Not sure the best way to get home right now." He added.

"Shut up." She smacked the top of his head. "Go to the sofa, I'll get some blankets. You can floo home tomorrow morning. Is Penny expecting you tonight?"

"No…I'd told her to expect me tomorrow." Percy opened one eye at her. "I told her everything, like George suggested."

"Good man. Because I'd have to kick your ass if you hadn't." Michelle kissed him on the top of the head, as if he were Alf or CJ. "Now go. And be more careful, you great idiot."

She rather doubted he'd listen to her, but she had to try.

WWWWWWW

Day three of their week of camping, George Weasley felt like a new man. He had not, even after his breakdown, fully realized how much pressure he'd been under. Now, he felt younger, happier, more at peace.

They were hiking along a fairly active stream. More accurately, they were hiking IN the stream, wearing water shoes and splashing each other, as the day seemed to be heading for a balmy ninety degrees.

Ahead, the boys were laughing hard, joking with each other and tossing rocks as far as they could, leaping over boulders that burbled in little mini rapids. They were, some ten minutes into the walk, already soaked through and loving it; George considered himself as biding his time, thinking that a little deep water and a surprise attack was just the thing.

"Around the bend, about a quarter of a mile." Jimmy neatly read his wicked grin. "A lovely swimming hole just waiting to toss the boys in."

"Excellent." George chuckled, looking about at the nature. The air was clear, the water pleasantly cold, and trees with rich green leaves in the full of summer splendor hung over the stream. He saw a deer nibbling at some foliage not far away. And the knots that had lately been forming in his shoulders seemed to melt away.

"Michelle's due pretty soon, eh?" Jimmy asked.

"Three more weeks. I still am a little stunned she's having twins." George did feel that familiar tweak in his gut, then; his conversation with his mother had eased his worries, but he still wondered exactly what it would be like when he first saw his newborns. Would he get over having twins in the house who weren't, well, him?

"Names picked out?"

A short laugh from George then. "Not exactly. In fact, we've been arguing over it pretty steady. Good naturedly, but still arguing."

That surprised Jimmy. "Freddo wasn't much of a discussion, though. What's different this time?"

Funny. When Michelle had first told him she was expecting Freddo, he'd asked just once if she'd mind naming him after his brother. She had told him she'd expected they'd do that, and that had been it. Though they both professed to have no idea whether she was having a boy or girl, they had never even discussed a name for a girl. Somehow, they had just known.

This time, everything seemed totally up in the air. And that had been evidenced, early, by their attempted choices of names.

"I had one request when we started talking about it." George explained. "Namely, that we not go the "F" and "G" route. My brother and were named after our Uncles Fabian and Gideon, and since of the four of us I am the only one to survive past the age of twenty-five, I'm thinking I'd rather not go that way."

"Understood. So...what names are you discussing?" Jimmy asked.

"Well, for two boys, she likes Austin, and I favor Andrew. That seems pretty straightforward. It's the girl's names that have us flummoxed. I wanted Roxanne..."

Jimmy snorted.

"...see, that's how she reacts too. I've always liked the name, but it turns out there's some bloody muggle song that makes it an issue..."

"Unless you want your daughter compared to a lady of the evening." Jimmy pointed out. "If she ever had to move in the muggle world, she'd probably get teased a lot."

"Right." George huffed, still put out about it. "And Michelle favors Abigail, which sounds so old fashioned to me. Though it would work alright if we had a boy and a girl, Austin and Abigail, I suppose. But Abby Weasley?"

He remembered the next conversation with confusion. "And then, thinking of a name close to Abigail, but not so old fashioned, I suggested Tabitha."

And just like Michelle, Jimmy started laughing so hard he had to stop walking.

"WHAT? Why is that name so bloody funny?"

"Tabitha. For a WITCH. I'm sorry, George, why don't you just go ahead with Samantha and Sabrina?" Jimmy was actually holding his side, trying to catch his breath.

"See, I think Samantha and Sabrina are pretty names too...what, is this some muggle thing I'm missing?"

"Did you ask Alf?" Jimmy said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"No, the thought of having my son laugh at me like you are is just too galling." George grumbled.

"They're famous muggle witches, George; characters in televisions or movies. Or both, in some cases. Tabitha was Samantha's daughter on a show actually called Bewitched...and Sabrina was a comic character and a television one. It would be like you naming your son Oz."

"Oh." George began to understand. "I had no idea, of course. But, anyway, we're still at the girl impass, so to speak. And perhaps this is unfair of me, but I'd rather like at least one daughter, and baby girl Weasley isn't much of a name."

"You laugh...a work colleague of mine named his daughter Baby, after a movie he'd always been fond of. Poor kid is going to need therapy before she's ten." Jimmy pointed out.

"Ugh, that ought to constitute child abuse, in either muggle or wizard worlds!" George shook his head, as he and Jimmy ducked about a half fallen tree around the bend of the creek...

"_AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!"_

...Only to be flying tackled by three teenaged boys, who wrestled their fathers into the deep water of the swimming hole.

"GOTCHA! WE GOTCHA!" Tony chanted at once, clearly not caring that they had gone into the deep water with their fathers.

George came up from air, sputtering. "What the...Are you boys out of your mind?" And he started laughing.

"Oh, like we wouldn't know EXACTLY what you lot were planning back there!" Alf leapt up in the water and wrapped George's shoulders in a wrestling hold to bring him down again, even as CJ tackled his mid-section.

"Totally, Dad..." Tony added, trying to wriggle free from Jimmy's grasp. "You've dunked me in this exact spot for four years, you had to know that eventually I'd get even...AHHHH!" He gasped, as Jimmy got him fully submerged.

CJ went to help Tony, leaving George. Giving George the temporary advantage over Alf. So the five of them spent their time having water fights, laughing, and making complete messes of themselves, for the remainder of the afternoon.

"Are you sure..." Jimmy asked, exhausted, as they finally headed towards the bank and the trek home. "That you can handle two more?"

"Hell." George tried to catch his breath. "I can't figure out how my father handled seven!"

WWWWWWW

Tomorrow. Her boys would be back tomorrow. Michelle smiled to herself.

Not that she was without all of her boys…Freddo was even as she did the dishes bouncing along in his swing, singing to himself in the nonsense language of toddlers. At eighteen months, he was capable of stringing along small sentences and usually had no problem making himself understood. But when left to his own amusement, he often put together a string of words, usually aimed at the cat or the dog, that no human could make sense of.

"Roo? Ag go FOOT!" He squeeled, as Rufus walked under him.

"Mrrrrrr." Rufus answered, nudging Freddo's toe and then heading on his way.

"I do hope you lot are girls." Michelle rubbed her belly gently. "I'm surrounded by testosterone, even right down to the dog and cat!"

She had a firm kick in answer to that.

"Aunt Shell?" Victoire looked in to the kitchen. "Do you want me to finish those dishes up for you?"

She smiled tenderly at her niece. "What I would love, Victoire, is if you went out to the garden and picked some of those tomatoes. George and the boys are back tomorrow and it would be nice to serve them then. And you can check on the rest of the garden as well, see what's ripe."

"Are you sure?" Victorie worried, ever her mother's daughter.

"Positive. I feel quite well today. Go, now…if I need you I'll call!" She watched as her increasingly beautiful niece waltzed out the back door, swinging her hair behind her in unconscious imitation of her mother.

"Roo, Vic ga door. Hagger ga?" Freddo chanted.

"Mrrrrr." The cat answered, not lifting his head up from his food dish. However, at that moment the dog scampered up and bounded up and slammed his body against the back door.

"Alright, I'll let you out, you giant beastie!" She laughed. Hagrid shot forward into the hedged in yard, woofing lightly towards Victorie, who waved to him.

"Ga door, Hagger. Id Vic." Freddo informed her.

"I have no idea what you're saying, love." She stroked his head, and with her wand restarted the swing. "But it would seem your pets do."

"Roo Hagger lub Freddo." He insisted.

"Whatever you say." She turned back to the sink, and started scrubbing at the last pan. As she finished it, she put it away, and decided to reorganize the spice cabinet. She wasn't sure why, she just felt like she ought to be doing something. She couldn't stay still, didn't quite want to. Something inside of her wanted to keep moving. She pushed her hair back and felt a restless rumble from deep within. The need to do something, anything, was still there, and yet she couldn't.

"I haven't felt like this…since…" She tugged anxiously at her hair.

She looked at her smiling son's face as Freddo reached down to grab his foot, still quietly chanting nonsense.

"…since just before I went into labor with…"

A sudden pain tore across her midsection, bringing her to her knees.

"Oh, BLOODY HELL!" She yelled at the contraction, realizing her water had just broken. Freddo stopped his chatter, and looked at her in alarm.

"MUM?" He said. "Roo, Mum!"

The cat shot through the pet door and streaked into the garden.

Michelle made it over to the window.

"VictoiRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" The last syllable came out as a groan of pain. "Victoire, come quickly!"

The dog and the cat were doing an agitated dance in the garden, and her niece began to run towards the porch.

Hell, today would be the day Ginny had decided to take the kids into Diagon Alley, wouldn't it?

Well, Victoire would call Molly, and then take care of Freddo…and now she'd call George…she grasped the spelled coin in her hand, and no sooner had she activated it then she got hit with another contraction…well, George would understand that well enough! He ought to be back within a couple of hours, at most…

HELL, she thought. This is coming faster than it did with Freddo.

She just hoped it came easier, as well!

WWWWWWW

Freddo was sitting quietly in his playpen, the pacifier in his mouth working double time. Something strange was going on here. First Mum grabbed her belly and yelled in pain, and then Gran came and all sorts of crazy things happened. Victoire was there, and she had soothed him a bit, until _her_ Mum came and then she'd stuck him in HERE and managed to disappear as well.

Not that he was really alone…he had his dog and his cat, his great partners when Alf and CJ were away. But why wasn't anybody paying any attention to him? He was not used to being ignored; by rights Freddo had grown accustomed to being the center of his world.

He called to Roo, who came up to the mesh walls and nuzzled him through the boundary. Well, he understood Roo, just like Roo understood him;, and he'd obliged by levitating his buddy; high, high, and even higher than ever before. But nobody was even around to notice, and that was normally a real crowd pleaser!

For the past half hour, every time someone passed the living-room doorway, he'd raised his arms, and asked quite nicely, "OUT PEAS!" That never failed to get him picked up and carried about, or brought to where the action was—Freddo HATED not being with his crazy family. But today "OUT PEAS" just got him a smile and a "Be a good boy, Freddo."

Well, of course he was good. He was _always_ a good boy. Since when wasn't it good to want to be with Mum, and Gran, and Aunt Fleur and Victoire?

There was a mighty clatter at the front door, and Freddo was relieved. He knew that clatter...that was his Dad he heard, and Dad would rescue him from this nonsense.

"Da? Da home! Out Peas, Da!" He gave his best, widest grin and reached towards his father.

George didn't even SEE him as he sprinted up the stairs.

Several minutes went by, and he realized that he'd been quite forgotten. He sat down hard, and sucked furiously on his pacifier. If Da was home, that had to mean Alf and CJ were home too, right? Or had they forgotten him also? Did this have something to do with the new babies? The ones that had been growing within that moving bump that was his Mum's middle? He'd been told there were new babies in there, and that he was going to be a big brother like Alf.

He wanted to be like Alf, he did, he did...but Alf would be with the babies, and Freddo couldn't get there on his own! Well, not anymore...the first time he'd managed to scale the playpen, he'd proceeded to fall over and cut his chin, and mum had put some sort of one-way spell on the thing. He could be TAKEN out, but he couldn't leave.

Freddo sniffed. He wasn't, as babies went, much of a crier, usually pretty quiet since it took so little for him to command attention, and even less for him to get his point across. But he felt very alone right now. His lower lip trembled.

_Why wasn't anybody with him? Didn't he matter anymore?_

More footsteps sounded, and Alf peaked around the corner of the doorway. Silently, and afraid it might not work this time either, Freddo lifted his arms up.

Alf's eyes softened; he gave him a broad grin, and reached in and swooped him up into his arms. "Hey, big guy. Afraid you've been forgotten by everyone, eh?"

Freddo sniffed again, and nuzzled his head against Alf's shoulder, nodding. CJ was there the, reaching in to push the hair off of his face. "Nobody's forgotten you, kiddo." The other boy said. "You're just so good people thought you would be okay without them.

Well, he wasn't. But he had his brothers now, and that was okay.

"Let's get you some juice and we'll tell you all about what's happening with your Mum." Alf winked at him. "You've got new baby sisters, Freddo. Now you get to be a big brother too!"

He let the pacifier fall from is mouth; CJ caught it. "Like Aff. And Ceejay." Freddo said, turning his head to one side. "No go leave me?"

"NEVER!" Alf said, lifting him up high and giving him a little shake that made Freddo have to laugh, even if he was still a little uncertain about this whole new babies thing.

At once, with a little toss that felt farther than it really was, Alf passed him over to CJ, who tickled him lightly, making him squirm. And then back to Alf, who swung him up high, high, high, and then down low, low, low, and Freddo was laughing _so_ hard! He knew then, that new babies or no new babies, everything was going to be alright.

WWWWWWW

George felt a little tremble go through him as he came forward to his wife. He was vaguely aware of his mother in the background behind him, but he kept his eyes focused on the tiny pink bundles beside her.

"Hey, George." Shell gave him a tired smile. "Sorry it happened so fast."

"I'd rather it this way than like last time." George said, reaching forward to give her a shaky kiss, and then he looked down to the babies beside her.

Two little identical bookends, with dark brown tufts of hair and tiny pursed lips, both with more than a passing resemblance to his wife. He reached a finger down and slowly stroked the cheek of the one nearest him, and watched her give a little closed eye yawn, and nuzzle closer to her sister. He then did the same to the second baby, and she wrinkled up her nose, blinked once and looked up at him...she had blue eyes, his eyes. Their eyes locked, and then she too went back to sleep.

"They're so small." He murmured, amazed. "Was Freddo actually ever that small?"

"No...he had a couple of pounds on them; not surprising, considering." She squeezed his hand. "You okay?"

Was he okay?

Had he ever been better?

He smiled fondly down at her, and answered with a squeeze of his own. "They're beautiful." His princesses, his daughters, his twins. He laid his hand gently on the two of them, just resting over their little bodies, feeling their warmth and the intake of their breathing, already in sync. He chuckled lightly...they were princesses now, but he had no illusions that he wasn't in for a handful of adventures here. He imagined GINNY times two, and it was enough to convince him that he'd have to stay on his toes.

"Do we have names yet?" Molly came up behind him, gently stroking his hair.

George and Michelle's eyes met, and they both smiled wanly. "No, Mum, we've had a number of debates. We were prepared for two boys or for a boy and a girl...but we never could agree on two names for girls."

"Well, don't let it wait too long." She rubbed his shoulder. "Baby one and Baby two is going to get old fast."

Michelle looked up. "Where are the boys, George?"

"I think they wanted to give us a few moments...can you bring them in, Mum?" He looked up at Molly, tearing his eyes away from his new daughters. He felt filled by warmth, at the thought of his family, his perfectly wonderful family, and amazement that he'd ever gotten to this point.

"No need." Alf was in the doorway, holding on to Freddo, who seemed rather shy suddenly. "We rescured the big guy here from his pen, thought he ought to come up and see his sisters.

George beamed at Freddo, feeling a twinge of guilt that he had just raced up the stairs without thinking about his young boy. "Freddo…" He held his arms out. "Come see your baby sisters!"

Freddo accepted George's grasp and settled in on his lap, leaning over carefully. "Two." He said, pointing to his sisters. Then he frowned, and looked up at his dad. "Mall."

"Yes, they're small now." George said, understanding his son completely. "Freddo used to be that small once."

Freddo looked to Alf for confirmation.

"Yep, you were…maybe not quite that tiny, but pretty close." Alf and CJ both came in together. "So…are we calling them Abby and Tabby?" He quipped.

"Absolutely not!" George and Michelle insisted together.

CJ chuckled. "What about Jimmy's suggestion of Sabrina and Samantha?"

Michelle rolled her eyes. "I am going to kill that man!" She muttered.

Molly was behind George, just above Freddo. "I don't know, Freddo." She teased. "Maybe we need to send them back. Maybe they're not ours. Look at their HAIR." She mocked horror.

"Mum…" George pleaded. He knew Mum was trying to be funny, but the last thing he wanted to do was get Freddo riled up.

Freddo was not anything close to riled up. He looked at his Gran like she was crazy, and popped his pacifier out of his mouth, handing it to his father. "No wrong babies." He said, slowly. And he pointed, quite deliberately. "Mum." He said, motioning to his mother's hair. Then, next: "CeeJay!" He pointed upwards to CJ, who was standing just behind Alf. Then, down to his sisters. "Babies. Same!" He insisted. Then he touched his own hair. "Freddo. Alf. Da. Gram. _Same_. No wrong!" He shook his head hard.

"Look, he's sticking up for them already." CJ chuckled, though he was blushing a bit at the way Freddo just assumed that the babies had hair like CJ did, because it was that simple to Freddo.

"Ravenclaw brain all the way, Gran." Alf joked. "It will be up to the twins to carry on the Gryffindor legacy!" Alf reached over and grasped one tiny foot.

The baby…baby 1…opened her eyes and looked at him. And with great effort, she sneezed…right at Alf.

"Ick!" He backed away. "What is that?"

Uh, oh. George thought

An impossibly miniscule, tiny bat fluttered around Alf, and then disappeared.

"At two hours OLD?" Michelle gasped. "That can't be."

Molly began to laugh, even as she turned to leave the room. "Oh, my dear sweet boy…I am going to enjoy watching this!"

George looked down at his tiny daughter, who turned her eyes on him, in an almost innocent, what did I do sort of way.

"She looks the same way your Mum does when she knows something the rest of us don't." Michelle pointed out. "A mini Molly."

Their eyes met, and somehow it was as if they both knew.

"That's one down." CJ gave them a grin. "But you still have one to go."

George looked to his wife. She had her own share of loss in her past. "Shell…what was your Mum's name?"

She hesitated for a second, pausing as she looked at Alf. "Her name was Kathryn. But everyone called her…Katie."

There was a silence in the room, as they all digested that. It was Alf who found his voice first. "I think that's just perfect." He grinned down at his little sisters. "Molly and Katie Weasley…welcome to the family. You're going to fit in just fine!"


	27. Ch 27 this way comes

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

July 10th

It's been eventful this summer, I must say.

We went camping with Uncle George in America after the whole mini-meltdown he had. I had some reservations about that...I am no muggle. But it was quite possibly the greatest week of my life.

To be sure, it started rough. Firstly, I hadn't slept all that well the night before, still all out of sorts over everything that happened that morning. Even after Uncle George made such a point of making sure I knew he loved me. Because after that, I was really worried about him; I couldn't imagine how many things it must have taken to push him over the edge like that. And that scared me.

Anyway, I was a walking zombie, when you consider the time difference, by the time we got to hiking up to the campsight. And I don't think Uncle George was much better, both of us tripping over our own feet and trying to hold each other up. Alf, of course, acted like he was prepared to run a marathon. Then we got to our tent...and I realized with a shock how differently camping was for muggles!

(It is some comfort to know that Uncle George had the same shock as me!)

But we got over that quickly. Tony really is a solid guy, and smart, too. He (and Alf) didn't lord it over us TOO badly. Most of the time. And I learned a lot of things. For instance, fishing is really an excuse to joke around and shove people in the water. The purpose of hiking is to exhaust yourself to the point of not being able to stay awake past nine at night. And the purpose of cooking over a campfire is to demonstrate that all products eventually become carbon.

Or, to be serious, I learned that without any light, magical or electrical, the stars really pop at night; it seemed like there were thousands of them. I learned that marshmallow and chocolate rivals anything that you could find in the most expensive shop in Diagon Alley. I learned that Uncle George can make fresh caught trout into a fine dining experience and that singing around a campfire is the best entertainment ever.

And for five of our six days, I got to forget entirely that I am under an unbreakable vow.

Day six was strange.

I got up early. For some reason, my father's stranglehold over me came to my mind, and I slipped out of the tent. I walked over to the edge of the clearing, looking down in to the ravine below, and watched the sun rise. And for a few moments, despite everything wonderful that the week had been, I considered just pitching myself over the side.

It really made sense for a moment. After all, I was happy. I felt loved and wanted. Why not end it now, before I could screw it up? Then my father would be thwarted, finally; he could never get what he wanted from me.

Tony surprised me just as the thought was crossing my mind, and he came up next to me for a moment. "Quite the sunrise." He said.

"It is." I answered, and let myself start to be surprised that I had even considered suicide.

Tony and I get along fine, mind, but I'll never be as close to him as Alf is, of course. And he's still a little foreign to me, being a muggle. But at that moment, he seemed to see my thoughts.

"It's not that far down. You might not die." He said, simply.

I told him he didn't know what he was talking about, and he said of course he didn't. And I thought he might drop it for a moment. But he went on to say, quite simply, that Alf was worried about me. And then he said George was probably worried about me to, but had it buried beneath all the other stuff he was dealing with. And he said he'd been watching me. And that he'd read all of Uncle George's books.

"Are you under an imperious curse?" He asked suddenly.

How strange that Tony's managed to get closer to the problem than anybody else. I told him I wasn't, of course, and then IT happened...the strange choking feeling, the sense that my throat might close in on itself, came over me, and my pulse started racing and I broke in to a sweat. It's been getting worse, as I get closer to the deadline of my vow; now whenever I even think about telling somebody a little something, some little hint, the vow attacks me.

Tony understood, a little. He put a hand on my shoulder, and helped me away from the ravine and over to the picnic table. I sat there, shaking, and he got me orange juice, which helped. He continued on, saying he could see that whatever it was, I couldn't talk about it, and asked me if the reason I couldn't talk about it was something magical. I managed a nod to that, and he sighed. Then he added that he knew he was a muggle, but that whatever it was, I shouldn't let myself get too dark about it. He knew families, if not magic, and that Alf and Uncle George thought the world of me and would be more upset to lose me than anything else. So I should hang in there.

There's a lot I might have said, then, if I could manage to. But at that moment back in England Miss Shell went in to labor and George came tearing like a mad man out of his tent with the coin in his hand, calling for us to gather our stuff.

Which brings me to the next eventful moment of my life: the world had better look out, because Mollie and Katie Weasley are going to take it by storm.

It took us near on four hours to get back to England, and the babies were already born by then. Tiny little buggers, with big tufts of dark brown hair and blue eyes. Their birth, and the complete lack of complications for Miss Shell, probably eased ninety percent of the worries he'd been having, and Uncle George already looked like a new man by the time Alf and I got upstairs with Freddo.

They didn't have names at that moment. But it was funny. My head was still reeling from the whole incident by the ravine that morning, when Freddo quite improbably made Tony's point. As Molly was teasing that we ought to sent them back because they weren't red heads, Freddo pointed out that Miss Shell and I both have brown hair too, so clearly this was not some family oddity.

In other words, they look like their brother CJ and Freddo knew he looked like his brother Alf. What problem?

I realized at that moment that I have a family, a family that matters to me but also a family that I matter to. Freddo considers me his brother. He doesn't understand about adoption (or legal warding, in my case), but he doesn't care, either. It's not important to him. I am his brother, his sisters look like me, and his Mum, and what was wrong with that?

Smart little bugger.

Then one of the babies let of a miniature bat-bogey hex, and it was decided she would be named after George's mum. The other baby would be named after Miss Shell's mum, which it turns out is Katie, sames as Alf's mum. (Funny how things work out). Anyway, that's what they stuck with, except they decided to change the spelling of Mollie so it would match Katie. Oh, and thanks to some sort of muggle joke that Tony's dad kept making, their middle names are now Samantha and Sabrina.

Anyway, because of all this I've decided the little episode at the campgrounds is to be put aside, then. I will not just take the easy way out. I will fight this thing, and I will win. How can I not, with all that I have on my side?

WWWWWWW

July 11th

Michelle was looking, with some trepidation, down at her nearly newborn daughters. They were both in the same crib, as George seemed quite certain they would prefer. Mollie's feet waved in lavender booties; Katie's were encased in pink ones. It seemed a perfect solution to dress the babies in different colors until they got older and their personalities emerged.

Of course...she'd never been around twins. And she'd never known Fred. Casually she'd asked Ron how he'd been able to tell Fred and George apart, and he responded immediately with "I never could."

She'd argued with him. Surely he didn't mean _never_? Fred and George couldn't have grown up _perfectly_ alike?

"Until George went and got his ear blown off, pretty much."

That had not been the answer she'd wanted, and Michelle had persevered. What about their personalities? What made George, George, and Fred, Fred? Did one have a different gait? A different handwriting? A higher laugh? Certainly their personalities couldn't have been the same.

According to Ron, they were.

It worried her. And all the more so, because she was preparing to give her newborn daughters a bath, which would require taking off the socks. And _then _what was she going to do?

What if she shifted Mollie and Katie during the process? What if they got mixed up? What if she pulled Katie out of the bath and put Mollie's socks on her? What if she did that two, three times? How could she ever be really sure Mollie was Mollie and not Katie?

Had Molly ever done that with the boys? What if she had? What if she were really married to Fred, and not George? What if George had died in the war? Her head started spinning with the possibilities, and though a part of her knew it oughtn't matter, it did, it did, because she couldn't help but keep thinking that it mattered hugely if George had died instead of Fred.

"Sickle for your thoughts, love?" George came in and wound an arm around her.

Michelle burst in to tears.

"Whoa, NOT the reaction I was expecting!" George gasped, hugging her close and letting her sob on her shoulder, as she began to choke out bits and pieces of her muddled thoughts. Somehow, "Socks", "Bath", "Mistake", and "Wrong baby" must have been enough for him to piece together what she was worried about.

"Do not be silly, Shell." He soothed her. "They look a lot alike now, I know, but we'll put one of those little sticky ribbons in Mollie's hair. As they get older we'll be able to tell them apart just fine."

Michelle sniffed to a stop. "R-ron said, he said nobody could EVER tell you apart, not even your Mum! What if you're Fred, George?"

"Then I look pretty damned good for somebody who's been dead for fifteen years." He quipped, and she slapped at his shoulder. "Okay, seriously, Shell, Ron is the wrong person to ask. I love him, but he's got the observational powers of a slug. And Mum could always tell Fred and I apart, unless her brain was scrambled with other worries. We might fool her for a few minutes, but not if she were paying attention."

"So...you _were_ different?" She wiped at her eyes, and looked at him curiously.

"We were." George rubbed her shoulders. "For one, which you've obviously forgotten, I could sing, and he couldn't, though I hid that fact. He was a little more reckless than I was, which admittedly is like saying the Atlantic ocean is wetter than the Pacific, but it's true. He was better at transfiguration; I was better at charms, although we were both pretty good at the two of them. I was adequate at potions, and he was horrible. He laughed harder and more quickly, but he also lost his temper more quickly; my temper is worse, but my fuse is longer." He kissed her head. "I am most definitely George, dear, and I have been for as long as I can remember. And if you don't believe me, just ask Ginny...even when she was little, she could tell us apart."

"I feel like such a terrible mother." Michelle admitted, turning back to her daughters. "They are SO identical."

George leaned in, and finally, with a sigh, agreed. "Quite alike, the two of them. Fred and I did have a few freckles in different places, but alas, we're talking pale skinned brunettes here." A glint came in to George's eye, and he took out his wand. Very carefully, he spelled a single lock of Mollie's hair to be copper red. "Just a glamour charm...we don't want to change her. But until they make their individualities known, and they will, this will do."

Michelle relaxed at once. "Do you want to help me bathe them?" She asked, reaching in for the clearly identifiable Mollie.

"Why do you think I came in here?" George joked, picking up little Katie, and smiling.

WWWWWWW

The next morning, George woke up to Michelle's voice, high pitched and strange: "George...come here, please."

He found her in the nursery, standing over the single crib, with the strangest look on her face. "Dearest, what on earth can it be?" He stood beside her, looked down, and then gaped.

Somehow, Mollie and Katie, dressed in identical little white onesies, had managed to kick off their socks. Well, it was warm out, to be sure. But not a problem, because that lock of Mollie's hair had been spelled copper. Except...

Except now BOTH babies had a single lock of hair that was copper. In the exact same place. And both babies had their eyes open and were looking up at their parents with the innocent gaze of newborns.

George finally found his voice. "Fred and I never much liked being different." He said in a strangled voice. "Not looking different, anyway. I guess I forgot to mention that the ear thing really bothered him?"

"You did." She turned level eyes on him. "Now what, George?"

George gulped. Clearly she expected this to be fixed, but how? He hated to admit it, but he couldn't tell them apart, not at all. He'd been quite honest yesterday when he said he'd been certain that as they got older they'd find it easy...he'd assumed that because Mum and Dad had never seemed to have a problem. But his little daughters couldn't be more alike if they'd been given polyjuice.

A voice called from across the hall. "Up! Up, Peas! UP!" Freddo's voice was quite insistent.

"I'll get him." George offered quickly, but Michelle put her hand on his chest.

"Oh, no you don't. I will get him, and you will figure out which of our daughters is which!" And she spun out of the room.

_Oh, shite!_ George leaned forward. "Fine spot of bother you young ladies have got me in now." He grumbled. With a deep breath, he took his wand out and attempted to remove the glamour. Obviously, Katie had found a way to change her hair to match Mollie's; therefore, if he removed the glamour, Mollie's hair should go back to pure brown.

Neither baby's hair would revert, though. George chewed on is lip thoughtfully. It would seem that they had liked the change and found a way, somehow, to make it permanent. Accidental magic of the highest sort. Which made him profoundly grateful he'd gone for a copper accent, and not lime green.

Carefully he took one baby's toe in his hand, and gave a little squeeze as Alf had done the day they were born. On cue, the little one scrutched up her nose, and sneezed out an infinitesimally small bat bogey hex. George grinned. "Good morning, Miss Mollie!" He quipped. "And good morning Miss Katie!" He reached over and squeezed her toe as well.

Only to frown as she, also, executed a mini bat bogey hex.

_Bugger me!_

Michelle came in behind him, holding Freddo in her arms. "He wanted to see his sisters." She looked up at George. "Any luck?"

"Not yet." He admitted. Freddo reached over to him and George grasped him close, letting his small son look over the railing at his twins.

"Babies no socks." Freddo observed at once.

"We realize that." Michelle rubbed at her head. "George, what are we going to do?"

Freddo leaned over, and squeezed the hand of the baby on the left. "Hi my Mollie." He then did the same with the second baby. "Hi my Katie."

George and Michelle looked first at each other, and then at Freddo. "Freddo, which baby is Mollie?" George asked.

Freddo pointed immediately to the left side twin.

"And so Katie is..." Michelle prompted.

Looking at his mother like she had clearly lost her mind, he very surely pointed to the baby on the right. "Katie therrrrrrrrrrrrrre." He said, slowly, as if he were the grown-up.

George shifted Freddo slightly, and looked down. "Freddo, how can you tell?" He finally gave in and asked.

"Freddo knows. I big brudder." He said with great pride.

Michelle and George just looked at each other, and finally she shrugged. "You said Ginny always knew." She pointed out.

"It's as good as we've got." George admitted. He conjured up a marker, and drew a big, purple "M" on Mollie's tee shirt, and then a big pink K on to Katie's. "I'm going to Diagon Alley today." He announced. "And getting two baby bracelets, one in amethyst and one in tourmaline."

"I'd say that was extravagant, but..." They looked at each other, and smiled in agreement, understanding each other perfectly.

WWWWWWW

August 17th

George's entire clan was the first to arrive for Percy's birthday celebration. By hours, in fact. Michelle was getting stir crazy, and he rather thought having the boys running the wide lawns of the Burrow with Freddo was a grand idea. And Molly had rather broadly hinted at requiring some culinary help.

"Weasely, Party of five…is our table ready?" George quipped, looking in the kitchen door.

"Thank heavens, George…I'm going nuts here." Molly reached up and kissed George's cheek. "The boys outside?"

"I've set Alf and CJ about setting up tables out back, with Freddo in tow. Dad's with Shell, and the girls." He scampered inside, and without further words began, with a few spells to get an endive salad chopping, while he began to whisk together a vinaigrette. "All Percy's favorite foods, I see." George grinned.

"As I try to do for each of you." Molly retorted. She was working on a marinate for the London broil. "I do wish you would give me a little hint of what he's been up to?"

George gave her a firm, though understanding, glance. "He's spoken with Penny, Mum. And from what I understand he's been less…evasive…as a whole."

"So, you approve of this?" She questioned.

George came up short from where he was working at the vegetables, and looked closely at his mother. He knew how worried she was, and he couldn't blame her. Neither could he lie to her. "Not entirely, Mum. Not any more than you and Dad approved of Fred and I doing those radio shows with Lee during the war. But he's an adult, Mum, and a he's a strong wizard, despite all appearances otherwise. I trust Percy, and even if I don't like what he's decided to do, I'm going to support him in it."

Molly gave a deep sigh that seemed to come from her toes. She leaned against the sink for support and stared out over the back yard. "I'd thought I was done with this, George. After the war. Losing Fred was bad enough, but I never forgot that it could have been worse, and I've been so grateful for what I've had. I can't lose another child, dear."

George hugged Molly gently. "And I told him I can't lose another brother, Mum. He understands. But this is just something he has to do."

"Stupid ministry, sticking their noses in other country's business." She huffed. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I read the Prophet, I know what's happening in Eastern Europe and I know whatever he's doing is over there. Here your father finally gets out, and now Percy's in the thick of things."

"And Harry, and Hermione." George pointed out. "It could have been one of them just as easy."

"Hmmf!" Molly took her wand and forcefully zapped a plate full of tomatoes, blowing them up all over the kitchen. "Why the ministry can't be done with my family, I'll never understand."

"It's your fault." George said, causing Molly to come to a standstill. "If you hadn't raised such unprecedentedly wonderful children who married equally astonishingly talented people, nobody'd give a darn about us."

Molly's mouth twitched slightly, and she only swatted George with the dishtowel once before starting to clean up, a sign that she might actually not have disagreed with him.

WWWWWWW

Percy looked at his watch carefully. He had about an hour left before he was due to leave for home, via ministry arranged port-key, for his birthday celebration at The Burrow. Meanwhile, he was still under the influence of Polyjuice, and still to all appearances Ivan Presliezevic. He'd promised Penny he'd be home, and he meant to honor that.

For now, he was very quietly in a booth in the same Pub where he usually ran in to Amos Diggory. And Amos was there as well, only this time Amos had not seen him. Just as well; Percy was assuredly not in the mood for idiocy at the moment. And Amos was particularly weird today. Even for Amos.

From what Percy had overheard, it would seem that in addition to being his birthday, today was also Amos's anniversary, or would have been if his wife hadn't passed away giving birth to CJ. As a result, it would seem Amos had decided to order two meals and a bottle of champagne with two glasses, and was dining with a dead woman. Or perhaps a ghost…it was the wizarding world, after all.

_Barmy old coot._ Percy snorted. _Amazing CJ ended up even remotely close to normal._

Of course, the dank miserable pub they were in was a perfect camouflage for insanity, since the only unusual behavior within the room would have been usual behavior.

"Finest champagne in Croatia for you, my love." Amos cooed. "Course, it's not Paris, love, but next year, eh? Next year."

Percy began going over a list of his notes from his various spying adventures over the past three days. Sure enough, the Filipowski government was being set up to cause a civil war around next year's celebrations. He had names of at least three wizards organizing forces to galvanize at the cue of some major calamity. He just didn't know what that calamity would be.

"Maybe our son will be with us to celebrate then, eh?"

Percy paused. When Amos said 'son', was he thinking of Cedric, who was just as dead as his wife? Or was he really expecting to get CJ back in his life? Hell would freeze over before George would let him, Percy knew.

A chuckle from Amos. "Unless he's in Azkaban."

He meant CJ, then; dead sons couldn't be imprisoned.

"But no matter. Either way, when he succeeds I will welcome him finally as a worthy son in Cedric's mold. And we…you and I, my love, will finally have our revenge against George Weasley!"

Percy let his spoon drop into his soup with a clatter.

"…yes, George will finally pay for stealing that money from us, dear…Cedric's rightful reward for giving his life, stolen first by Harry Potter and then turned into blood money by those nasty Weasley twins. Oh, he thinks his life is so perfect now…but CJ will rip out his heart…he will…and destroy it all. When he blows up that shop and takes billions of galleons of inventory with it…and George will be directly responsible for starting a war…yes, my love…then, we will have destroyed him."

Amos chuckled once more, while Percy gripped the table and counted out money with a shaking hand. He got up quickly, and moved to work his way towards the back door.

The last thing Percy heard before he got outside was perhaps the most chilling.

"And if the little bugger doesn't do it, he dies. A death that only an unbreakable vow can provide."

He had to get out of here. He had to warn George. He had to save CJ. And he had to do it now.

The air outside was heavy, sweltering and stinking with an oncoming thunderstorm. Percy leaned against the brick wall, and fought a gagging reflex.

"Gracious, my mushroom hunting troll, that is disgusting."

_Malfoy. Of all the times to come across Lucius FUCKING Malfoy!_

Percy fought hard to keep himself together, to keep himself in the guise of the doltish squib Malfoy believed him to be.

"Zorry…zo zorry. Must have had bad mushtroom, vot, Malfoy?" He gave a donkey's ass of a laugh at his own joke.

Malfoy was looking at him sternly. "Since when do you refer to me as just Malfoy? It is Mister Malfoy to you."

Percy gulped. "Yes, Yes…iz my mistake, Mister Malfoy, Vot I do I do by accident. Ivan is zorry, zorry…"

A lone wizard behind Malfoy snorted hard. "Little bugger deserves what you give him. He was sitting next to Amos Diggory like a proper wizard, listening in on what he had to say. Like it's his business if Diggory is a bit off today, talking to a woman what isn't there…"

"OBLIVIATE!"

The spell hit Percy square between the eyes; Malfoy had been that fast.

Percy fell to the ground, and the world around him went black.


	28. Ch 28 One Step Back

The silence at the end of the evening at The Burrow was thicker than the humid air. It was 10pm, and nobody knew where Percy was.

Harry had gone to try and contact Kingsley. Penny had curled up in to a ball by the cold fireplace, as if she could will Percy to floo back to her arms. Molly was cleaning obsessively, without words, and the rest of the family listlessly sat around the kitchen table, staring at cups of tea and coffee, and murmuring soft words to each other.

Alf came softly down the stairs. A decision, unspoken, had been made that the family would stay together in this crisis, and in that moment Alf had taken it upon himself to take charge of his young cousins. He gathered them up and tried to make light of the situation, that they would be 'camping' in the attic. Victoire and CJ had helped, of course. But now Alf felt he needed to be with his father, more than anything else. He was afraid that whatever had gone on, George would blame himself for.

Indeed, he could see the beginnings of guilt eating away at the man, as he sat very still with his arms folded over his chest. Miss Shell had one hand on George's knee, and the other drumming softly on the table.

Uncle Ron spoke to him first. "Kids okay then, Alf?"

"All settled in." Alf sat beside his father, hoping just to sooth him by his presence. "Perri's attached to CJ at the moment, Teddy was quieting James, and Victoire is watching the little ones."

Bill spoke next. "You should go on up to bed yourself, Alf." His voice was firm, but not unkind.

Alf stiffened a bit. Damned difficult age fifteen was. He felt he belonged here, with the adults, helping out, here with his DAD who might need him. He didn't really fit in with the younger kids at the moment.

George seemed to understand him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "I'd rather he stay, Bill." George's voice was equally firm. "He's as aware of what's happening as any of us."

Molly grimaced in disapproval. "He's a child, George."

"We're not seriously going to have this argument _again_, are we?" Harry managed to keep his voice light. "Look, we're not dealing with Voldemort here, and all of us at this table know that trying to exclude Alf, CJ and Teddy from worrying isn't going to work any better now than it did fifteen years ago."

Molly excused herself and went in to the pantry. George just sighed.

CJ and Teddy came downstairs next. They waited a moment, looking at Alf, and hoping not to be sent back upstairs; instead Harry slipped over a bit to let Teddy in, and Michelle motioned to CJ, pulling him over. Alf heard Bill grumble about being glad Victoire hadn't followed their lead, and Teddy and Alf and CJ exchanged looks that left unspoken the knowledge that they'd been sure Victoire had been equipped with extendable ears.

Penny spoke from the fireplace. "Percy's going to be just fine." She insisted.

The silence filled the room once more; Harry got up and began pacing by the window, looking for an owl from Kingsley that might give them something to work on.

It took over twenty minutes for it to arrive, and it was little help when it did. Harry opened the parchment, read it once, and scowled, before he read it out loud.

"I am deeply disturbed that Percy seems to be missing. Unfortunately, due to the nature of his highly confidential work there is little I can tell you to put your mind at ease. Except that Percy's work in this period has been exceptional, and I have every confidence in his ability to handle a crisis. Should I hear anything from my sources, I will of course contact you."

Penny whimpered slightly, but then went still once more, and Harry returned to his seat, each of them staring at the other.

"George..." Molly said, her voice tightly pitched. "George, you know, don't you, where he is?"

"To a certain extent." George admitted, looking up at her with a nod. He looked over to Harry, but before he could speak, Arthur interrupted.

"You shouldn't have let him."

Dead silence then. Worse than any silence Alf had ever heard before.

Arthur finally looked up and met George's surprised look with a blank, empty stare. "Percy's no spy. He isn't capable of this, and you knew it. And still you encouraged him." There was no anger and no hurt in the words; it was a simple statement of fact, but the rebuke was clear. Father and Son kept their stares unbroken for what seemed an eternity to Alf, and then George rose quietly and walked out the back door.

Alf felt indignant, rage rising in his chest, and Miss Shell squeezed his hand, as she did CJ's. Uncle Ron looked flushed, and Molly interrupted before something else could be said.

"Uncalled for, Arthur." She said, reaching over to her husband's shoulder. "Percy, as George pointed out to me, is an adult. Don't let's make this worse than it is."

"But Percy listens to George." Arthur's voice shook just slightly. "If George had told him no..."

"Percy is NOT incompetent." Penny's voice was brittle and harsh. "And the reason Percy listens to George is because George is about the only person in this family who doesn't treat him that way. Oh, you all LOVE him, well enough, but George actually respected Percy enough to let him do what he needed to do." She sniffed hard. "And if he didn't feel so damned inadequate, maybe he wouldn't have needed to do it."

Arthur just stared at her, looking lost.

Alf, meanwhile, couldn't bear it, and rose to go after his father, only to have Uncle Charlie put a hand on his shoulder.

"I've got this one, kiddo."

Alf felt Miss Shell tremble, as she pulled him close to her, and then followed suit with CJ. They had seen George break up once already; none of them wanted to see this again.

WWWWWWW

Charlie found George standing in the back yard, staring out over the gardens and fields, arms folded tight around his chest. He put one hand on George's shoulder and gave a little reassuring squeeze. Then he spoke. "I'm going with you."

"You don't have to." George said, his voice flat.

"The hell I don't." Charlie said, firmly. "I see you aren't surprised that I'm not trying to talk you out of going?"

"You're not stupid, Charlie." George replied. "You and I both know that I was just ordered to go."

Yes, Charlie knew. Their father had that way with them. Molly would yell and have occasional slapping frenzies, but it was Arthur who quietly managed to convey disappointment and guilt with a simple tone of voice that could carve them up inside. It had happened very, very seldom, which made it all the more effective when it did.

"Michelle's going to go ape." He added, ruefully.

"She is." Charlie admitted, almost sounding cheerful. "The boys too, I'd wager...they like being left out as much as you lot did, from what I can see. Good kids. You're a good father."

George blinked once at the compliment, and swallowed hard. "Thanks."

"So...where are we going?" He asked.

"Dubrovnik, Croatia. Searching for a squib by the name of Ivan Presliezevic." George sighed. "Unless Percy's polyjuice wore off and he happened to be around Lucius Malfoy."

"Bloody hell, is he involved?" Charlie snorted in disgust. "We'd both better find some polyjuice ourselves."

"Or an invisibility cloak." Harry came up in back of them. "What? You two don't think I know what you're planning?" He smirked.

"Thanks, Harry." George's voice was warm with gratitude. "Keep an eye out for the family, will you?"

"You know I will. As Ron will watch the store." Harry's voice was remarkably calm. "And Penny's right, you know...Percy is much stronger than we ever gave him credit for."

George looked confused, as he hadn't heard Penny's outburst, but he shrugged. "Percy's always done just fine. Wish he saw that himself."

Charlie sighed, and squeezed George's shoulder once more. "Don't know when you got to be so much smarter than the rest of us."

He and Harry began talking details and plans; George just kept his eye on the horizon, wishing Percy would just reappear.

WWWWWWW

Michelle found him alone out back half an hour later. She knew Hermione was working on polyjuice, and Charlie was working out what details Harry could give him based on the scuttlebutt around the ministry. George was rubbing his arms in anxiety; she could see him dying to just _go_ and find his brother.

She turned him around to look at her; she knew she didn't want him to leave, knew it was unfair for Arthur to place any blame on him at all. But she also knew her husband, and Percy was out there, and George wouldn't rest easy until he found him. Still, there was worry in his face as he looked at her, worry that she would now rail against him for what he felt he needed to do.

She reached up and kissed him. "You'd better come back to me, George." She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her close. "I love you and I know that you have to do this. You wouldn't be the man I fell in love with if you weren't so driven. But I need you to come back to me...we all do."

She felt him tremble slightly. "Thank you." His lips pressed against the top of her head. "I couldn't bear it if I left with you angry."

Michelle had known that as well. Arthur's disappointment, however much it might have been born out of momentary frustration, had stung him enough. He didn't need to feel he was stuck in between his wife and his father. She rubbed his back firmly. "This isn't your doing. You believed in Percy, and you still do. But he is your brother, and you need to help him. Of course, when you get Percy back here, it won't stop me from giving him a piece of my mind..."

George chuckled lightly. "The boys okay?" He asked.

"Alf is pretty peeved, but not at you; CJ's just worried." She looked up at him. "You will talk to them before you go?"

"Of course." He said, kissing her once more. "And I will come back to you, I swear."

There was a shuffling noise just beyond them, and George looked over to see Alf and CJ, hovering just beyond the doorway. He opened one arm, and they both came forward, forming a huddle of sorts.

"I wish I could go with you." Alf said, indistinctly.

"Me too." CJ added.

"I need you boys here, with Miss Shell. I'd say to take care of her, but I'm afraid she'd kill me." George gave them a wry grin. "So your job is to keep her from hexing somebody else if they do something stupid."

"Right." Alf paused. "Going with you to find Uncle Percy might be easier."

The four of them managed a shaky laugh together. Over Shell's shoulder he saw Charlie motioning to him; Harry had gotten the cloak and Hermione the potions; they were ready to leave.

He thought about the little exchange he'd just had with his father, and flinched slightly. With determination he looked down to both of the boys, and put a hand on each one firmly. "I want you both to know how proud I am of you, and how very much I love you."

They reacted typically: CJ, quietly stunned, and Alf, blushing with pride. He kissed each one quickly, and then his wife. "Give Freddo and the girls a kiss from me." He implored.

"Kiss them yourself, when you get back." She ordered, holding on to him for just one more second, and leaning in to whisper to his good ear, "You know I will."

He pulled away from his family, and walked with Charlie towards the house; Hermione had already arranged a place for them to floo in to. As George stepped forward, he caught his father's eye. Arthur still looked blank and pained. George found his voice. "I'll get him, Dad." He said, with quiet seriousness. "I'll fix this."

Arthur didn't answer him, and with a swirl of floo powder, George was gone.

WWWWWWW

It had been hours since Charlie and George had disappeared in the quest for Percy.

Arthur Weasley sat out in his back yard, on an old bench, and watched the sun come up, all the while feeling that he was dying inside. He'd mucked it up again. Only this time he was staring into the abyss full aware of what the consequences to his unthinking words might be, and scared to death that he would have to face them. Pay the penalty a second time for making the same mistake twice.

He'd thought, over all, that he was a pretty decent father, really. He loved his boys, and Ginny; adored them in fact. He believed he and Molly made a pretty good team; what muggles referred to as good cop-bad cop, with Arthur usually as the good cop. Somewhere, of course, as a result the kids had come to understand that if they'd pissed off their father, they'd REALLY mucked up good. He'd rarely had to be the disciplinarian as a result; they just knew better than to cross that line.

As a result seven good kids had grown up in this world, even if one didn't make it all the way. But they'd been smart, honorable, funny, and balanced. They loved deeply, cared for each other fiercely, and showed loyalty to rival all of Hufflepuff house.

He'd been disappointed in Percy's choices when he'd left the family, and the defection had hurt, all the more so for how much Percy used to want to be just like his dad when he was a kid. But Percy had come back, right enough, and he was proud that it had been Fred who so forthrightly forgave him and welcomed him back.

Not that he'd told Fred that.

Not that he'd told Fred anything.

The events of that evening were crystal clear before him. Just before they'd split off to fight in different groups, Arthur had pulled Fred and George aside, and quietly scolded them for their reckless behavior, specifically for bringing Ginny into this mess. Typically, George had looked scorched and Fred defiant; they reacted so differently to praise and criticism, the both of them. And Arthur, wound tight with worries for his entire brood, had laid a whole bunch of stuff at their feet, that had been entirely unfair. He did it without yelling, by very quietly making it sound as if they had been colossal disappointments. And he'd finished the conversation by saying, "I expect you to try and fix this," in a tone that didn't give any room for misunderstanding.

He wouldn't learn for years that it had been planned between them, that one twin would go with Arthur and the other with Percy, because they believed it was the way to best bring them both back. All he knew was that night, George had fought by his side, never moving from him. There were several instances when the fighting had seemed overwhelming, when he knew that a curse was going to cut him down, and in those instances George, at his most reckless, would find a way to save him.

And the guilt began settling in. It had pretty much since the moments he'd finally gotten his anger off his chest in scolding them both. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh; it had been worry and anxiety speaking. And as George darted around him he was acutely aware that he might lose his son; George almost seemed hell bent on dying for him, and that wasn't what he wanted at all. One thought consumed him; what good kids he had, and how fine Fred and George were, and how they ought to know that he thought that.

Suddenly they'd had a break. The death eaters had broken rank, and exhausted, those fighting on the side of right had picked themselves up to regroup. And Arthur had grabbed George, hugging him fiercely, overwhelmingly relieved, and unable to say a word.

George had managed a laugh. "Geroff, Dad...let's make sure the rest of the family is in one piece!"

And then...and then...

Fred's body, lying lifeless in the Great Hall. Fred's body, with Molly draped across it. Fred's body, where George came forward in silent shock and knelt by his head, cradling it in his hands. Fred's lifeless body, that would never hear Arthur say he was sorry, never hear Arthur say he was proud; never hear Arthur say how bloody much he loved him.

He'd carried that burden for a long time. A burden that made him put up walls. He'd watched, in stunned silence, as one twin struggled for an eternity to put his life together. He'd stood back while Molly and George somehow, inexplicably, seemed to become more and more distant. He tried, from that moment on, to do the right thing, to make up for what he never told Fred, with all of his children, only it seemed hardest with George, somehow.

That conversation they'd had just after George had found Alf broke things open, though. He'd rather thought they'd gotten past everything. George had managed to confess to how bloody inadequate he'd always felt, and Arthur had, quite strongly, gotten across just how much George mattered to him. And everything afterwards changed. George and Molly, finding their own common ground. George in exile, and Arthur visiting him in Salem. Watching George fall in love, watching him marry, watching his little circle of family expand even more.

Yes, since Alf, George had blossomed into something even more than the man Arthur had hoped his son would be. He'd become a leader, really; one who led by example and as a result commanded respect of the best kind. And at some point, he'd even become a leader within the family, probably the first answer on any of his siblings lips when they considered who to go to with a problem.

And somehow Arthur had managed to throw that back at him. To make him responsible for something he shouldn't be responsible for. And George had, once again, risen to the request and was putting his life on the line.

He'd do it anyway, Arthur knew. The bond between his kids was so tight that any one of them would lay down their lives for each other. He would rather they not have to. And then, what Penny said about Percy last night...did Percy really believe he was incompetent? Was he still fighting those demons after all this time?

Would Percy die without understanding exactly what he meant to the family? Would George die without knowing how proud Arthur was of him? Why hadn't he at least been bloody able to say something before he left?

He used to think he was a decent father. Right now he felt like he couldn't have failed more than if he'd been Amos Diggory himself.

WWWWWWW

George and Charlie were in a dingy flat in a remote part of Dubrovnik, in the new city. But Charlie was unrecognizable. As he spoke Romanian and Russian, it was decided that he would be best off taking polyjuice, and was right now in appearance Alexei Grimskov, a Russian trader who was not well known in the area. The real Alexei was a member of the Russian ministry and was more than willing to take a vacation to Tahiti for a few days, especially as George Weasley was footing the bill.

"Blasted ministry." George grumbled, looking over the variety of Wheezes gadgets he'd thought they might need. "Officially washing their hands of Perce. Isn't that just like them?" He glanced at his brother, who was suddenly taller, blonder, and with higher cheekbones. "And tell me again why you get to take polyjuice, and I have to walk around in the damned invisibility cloak?"

"Because I speak Russian." Charlie said, in a deep, smooth voice with a slight accent. "And because you do not have the gifts of patience that I posses. If your temper goes, my dear brother, you are liable to hex half of Croatia."

"YOUR gift of patience? Wasn't it you who tried to stuff Fred and I into a wardrobe for the mere crime of trying to short sheet your bed?" George huffed.

"You were short sheeting it with nettles, little buggers." It was funny to hear Charlie's vernacular coming from Alexei's voice. "And I was still pissed about Fred turning my hair green!"

"We turned your hair green because you set us up on that Unbreakable Vow with Ron. And Fred and I DISTINCTLY got the worst of that one!" George crossed his arms and stared down Charlie.

A strong blush graced Alexei's face. "Err, yeah, guess you did at that. Never thought I'd see Dad go ballistic like that." He scratched the back of his neck, one of Charlie's trademark gestures. "Why didn't you tell Dad, anyway?"

George snorted. "Well, for one, we were both flipped out that he was going berserk, and he wasn't exactly giving us much chance to speak. And then..." George shrugged. "Hell, Charlie, we figured if he went off on us like that, he might actually _kill_ you, what with you being six years older. We decided to exact our own revenge." He paused for a moment. "Charlie...why'd you do that, anyway? I mean, we really, really could have killed Ron!"

Shock registered on Charlie's foreign features. "Bugger me, George...you don't think I gave you the correct spell, do you? I left out at least three key pieces of information that would have rendered the spell useless...it was just enough to make it _look_ like a good spell!"

George gave him a wry smile. "Well, it looked damned good to Dad, anyway!" He shook his head. "Okay, so what we know about this mysterious Ivan is that he's a squib who makes a living hunting truffles in the mountains, and is often gone for days on end. No family, no close friends, likes to hang around wizards and pretend he's one of them. Here's a photo." George passed the snap along that they were able to connive from the Ministry.

"Right. And I, Alexei Grimskov, am seeking to buy many, many Dubrovnik Truffles, as they are in high demand in the Russian restaurants which I sell to at a stunning profit." Charlie even managed to look like a bit of a dilettante. "Therefore I must, you see, find this Ivan, who knows all the best spots for these special delicacies."

"Not bad." George pulled the cloak over himself, and swiftly evaporated. "Let's go get him."

WWWWWWW

Alf sat back and looked around the back-yard at The Burrow, leaning back against the picnic table. "I need a nap." He announced to Teddy, who came up beside him.

"I can't imagine why." Teddy said, with a wry, lop-sided grin.

They surveyed the landscape before them. The entire Weasley clan was still firmly ensconced at The Burrow, with the adults having gone on to their jobs where they had them. But the kids were all still camped out, so to speak, and somehow Alf had found himself in charge.

And here was what he'd learned:

Victoire was a born nurturer who was perfect to play Mom to the infants of the group, which was basically Freddo, Percy's son Cedric, and the twins. Ricky, though he had a reputation as a trouble maker, really just needed something to do to keep him out of mischief, and once given responsibility, he took great pride in it.

James, on the other hand, was a complete mischief maker, in the full mode of his paternal grandfather, a mini marauding band of one, and right now CJ had him on a broom, trying to absolutely physically wear the boy out playing quidditch. Albus, now, was quieter, especially if kept away from James; he and Rosie were great friends, along with little Perri, and they also played nicely with Lily and Hugo. Teddy had settled them in to a game of hide and seek. Which brought to mind...

"Did you lose them all?" Alf asked suddenly, wondering what his grandparents would say to him if he'd managed to get one of them hurt.

Teddy laughed. "Not a chance, though I've tried. They got tired, so now they're all coloring together."

Ricky came up to him breathless. "I got ALL the gnomes, Alf...you should have seen how far I made that last one fly!"

"Good job!" Alf roughed his hair. "No bites?"

"Not a scratch!" Ricky said, proudly displaying his untainted fingers.

"Excellent! I dub you Sir De-gnoming, a title I understand once belonged without question to my fathers!" Alf made a show of 'knighting' his cousin. "Now how about going in to help Gran bring out sandwiches, eh?"

"Will do!" Ricky ran off quickly.

Victoire turned the corner as he did so, and her brother gave her a playful nudge, which she laughed at as she pushed him on. She came up next to Teddy and Alf, pushing her shimmering hair off of her face. "Freddo and Ced are down for naps. Aunt Shell has the girls." She hopped on to the table. "Any word, Alf?"

"None." Alf gave a long sigh, kicking at the dirt. "I want Uncle Percy back, but I'm worried about Dad."

"Don't blame you, mate." Teddy rubbed at his chin. "I'm actually surprised they didn't ask Uncle Harry to go."

"Uncle Harry has done enough, I think." Victoire said, looking over the grounds. "Now my father, he was hurt, I think, that he wasn't expected to go."

"Hmph." Alf snorted. "I think Gramps has decided somehow that this whole mess is Dad's fault." He kicked even harder. "I don't exactly know what passed between them, but somehow Dad got the blame."

"Odd." Teddy seemed to think about it. "Gramps usually doesn't get mad at all, let alone go assigning blame for things, and he never usually over-reacts. That's Gram's job."

"Papa says that you always knew you were really in trouble when Gramps was mad." Victoire added sagely.

"Yeah, but what was Dad supposed to do, tie Uncle Percy to a tree?" Alf grumbled, then gave himself a little shake as he saw his Gram coming out with a large tray; out of nowhere the younger kids emerged, and CJ and James zoomed down to earth. Alf hopped of the table, making room for everyone, as they clamored around the platter.

"Settle down, now, loves...not a corned beef among them. All ham and turkey...a cleaning spell on those hands first, please!" Molly was keeping her mind off of Percy by keeping as busy as possible. She gave a glance around the yard. "Has anybody seen Arthur?"

Silence, then Ricky volunteered. "He went off to his shed, said he was going to reorganize his plug collection and he wasn't to be bothered."

Molly huffed. "He has to eat lunch, silly man. Alf, dear, be a love and go get him for me?"

_Me? _Alf thought that was rather awkward at the moment.

Molly had already turned back to the younger kids, however, and didn't seem to be expecting any reluctance on Alf's part.

"I could go." Teddy volunteered, seeing Alf hesitate.

Alf gave a slight shake of his head. "She asked me." And setting his shoulders he turned and jogged off to try and coax his Grandfather out of hiding.

WWWWWWW

Arthur was sitting in a hidden corner of his shed, the shed Molly never dared enter, and that most of his children avoided, since they knew it would mean entertaining Arthur in his full muggle appreciation mode. Only George really ventured in willingly, which was funny, because George was probably the only person he wouldn't want to see The Box that he kept on a lower shelf.

In The Box was a photo of Fred and George, in their first Youth Quidditch outfits, mugging for the camera. And a photo of Fred, holding two fingers over Bill's head. Fred, missing his two front teeth, eating a watermelon and dripping all over Aunt Muriel's favorite tablecloth. Oh, and a father's day card, signed Gred and Forge. Another letter, just from Fred, when he was falling for Katie Bell, and had written to Arthur because he was afraid his twin might have feelings for her as well, and he didn't know what to do. Naturally, being Fred, it was couched in sarcasm and wit. A scrap of one of Fred's old jeans, which had to be cut off of him when he'd had a broken leg at the age of four. It was the first of his kids to really hurt themselves, and Arthur had been terrified.

In short, The Box contained various pieces of the life of a son who'd been torn from him too quickly. Report cards, with their exceedingly varied comments, shared space with a quick note from Fred that just said, "sorry"…that had been for taking the flying car to save Harry. On the back of the note was "But we had to save Harry, Dad…and it ran Beautifully!" Arthur still chuckled over that.

He came here when he was feeling down, and looked at the pieces of Fred that were left to him, and wished it could have been different. Now he wondered if he wouldn't be adding another box, or two, to this room, and didn't think he could bear it.

There was a tentative knock at the door.

"Go Away, please." He said, in the tone dripping sternness that would have sent his children carving a wide path around him when they were younger. A tone he could probably remember using less than fifty times.

The door crept open, and Arthur set himself, preparing to issue a scathing retort to whoever dared to interrupt him right now…except of course Molly, who he would never dream of yelling at.

It was Alfred, sticking his head around the door.

"Um. Gramps?" Alf was quite serious, not afraid at all; perhaps even a little defiant. "Gram wants you to come have a sandwich."

Arthur looked at Alf, and he saw Fred. And with eyes misty, he held his arms out to his grandson. "I'm so sorry…so sorry…"

Alf came forward tentatively, "Gramps? You okay?"

Arthur realized that it was Alf coming towards him, and he put down his arms and sighed. "Alfred. Sorry. Heh, I ought to stop saying that. No, I'm not okay. I have three children in danger and I am a terrible father. And I'm not hungry."

With a little sigh, his oldest grandchild came up to him, and pulled over a box. "I'm not exactly looking forward to going out there and telling Gran you won't eat."

That got a chuckle from him, no matter how small. "Good point."

Alf, meanwhile, had noticed The Box. He reached in and picked up one of the photos…this of Fred at roughly the same age. He raised an eyebrow. "Good looking bloke. Reminds me of someone."

The chuckle was larger, and then Arthur bit back a sob. But he kept himself under control with effort, before speaking again. "I should have told him." Alf just looked at him, seemingly willing to let Arthur just keep talking. "Fred. I should have told Fred how proud I was of him. Never did, really. He died on the wrong end of an argument between us, and I've never forgiven myself."

"I see." Alf gave him a slow nod. Then, brow furrowed, he added on, "I don't think Dad thinks you're a terrible father." He hesitated, then plunged on. "He knows you love him. I don't much understand what went on last night, but I DO know that."

"Ravenclaw." Arthur said, tidying up the box and putting it away. "Figuring out that this isn't really about Fred at all." Arthur sat back, and then reached over and pulled a plug from the display on the wall, a bright orange one. He gave a melancholy grin. "The twins bought me this one when they were just seven years old." He looked over at Alf. "Right after the one time I really lost my temper with them. Did your father ever tell you?"

Alf twisted his head slightly. "No, not really. I've heard pieces of jokes about things…something to do with Uncle Ron and Uncle Charlie. I've never really pressed him on it, though."

Arthur rubbed at his face, feeling old and tired. "The only time I've raised my hand to any of my children. I came in and I saw them casting an unbreakable vow with Ronnie. I, quite frankly, flipped out."

Alf's eyes had gotten wide. "Justifiably so, I'd say. I can't think of much that would make Dad go ballistic, but risking Freddo's life might just do it." He blinked then. "Wait…they were casting an unbreakable at seven years old??"

Arthur met Alf's eye. "Charlie put them up to it…didn't find that out until months later. When I did find out, it was rather obliquely, and at that point, of course, my temper wasn't up. I probably should have punished him…but I let Fred and George enact their own justice."

"They turned his hair green." A memory of a conversation from five years ago came to Alf. "We talked about it right before Dad and I had to run to Salem…only not about what got them angry at Charlie to begin with." Alf reached over and squeezed his grandfather's arm. "I don't think Dad is exactly angry over that, Gramps. Because you'd lost your temper what, once, in their lives? I mean, by all I've heard they were a handful."

"In a good way, mostly. Creative." Arthur smiled fondly at the memories. "Not that Molly always saw it that way."

"Right. Dad even told me that once…he kind of ran interference for me with Miss Shell over something, and when he got called out on it…she wasn't even angry, it turned out…he admitted that he'd always relied on you to do that with Gram." Alf gave him a nudge. "He loves you back."

"Right."

Arthur still looked worried, though, and Alf didn't know what else to say, so he hoped to change the subject. "So…what were my twin fathers trying to trick Uncle Ron in to? Just so I can give Dad grief about it when he gets back."

Arthur grimaced. "They were making him their slave for life."

"No way!" Alf grinned. "If they had succeeded, how would you have gotten him out of it?"

Arthur looked oddly at Alf. "If they had succeeded, we couldn't have."

Alf started to laugh, and then stopped when he saw how serious Arthur was. "Wait…you mean Ron would have had to BE their slave? I mean, really?"

"Unbreakable vows are not to be taken lightly, Alf. They literally cannot be broken. None have, not in the recorded history of magic. Ronnie would literally still be George's slave to this day…he would have to do everything that they said."

"But…whoa, that's bad. I mean, really bad!" Alf felt slightly queasy.

Arthur nodded. "You see, I didn't flip out lightly, Alfred. Though, of course, there was a chance they might have miscast the spell…they were, as you said, seven, and were using someone else's wands, never the best way to do magic. But not a chance I could take in the heat of the moment. And consider this…if it had worked, the strangest failure could kill Ron terribly. For example, if as a joke Fred or George had said to go jump in a lake…"

"Uncle Ron would have to find a lake and jump in." Alf was seeing the difficulty. "Wow. I'm really amazed you didn't get angrier than you did."

"Well, it was their age, you see." Arthur admitted. "I knew they really didn't want to hurt Ronnie. It was a joke to them. It was a lark." Considering for a moment, Arthur shook his head. "I really should have punished Charlie, shouldn't I have? If only to show the twins I was being fair."

"Well, I'm sure my Dads got back at him more than that one time, knowing them." Alf pointed out. "I mean, Uncle Ron could have died."

It was with a sick feeling that Arthur thought over that exact moment. "No, Alf…not just died, died terribly. At the height of Voldemort's power I saw someone try and break an unbreakable vow…he literally tore himself to pieces. Ripped his own flesh right off of his body, right down to the bones, until his blood ran dry. Worst thing I have ever seen in my life. When I think that Ronnie…"

Alf gave in and hugged his Grandfather tightly. "Stop doing this to yourself. I know Dad's glad you didn't let him finish binding Uncle Ron. He wouldn't have wanted anything at all like that to happen. And he loves you…he does. We ALL do."

Arthur accepted the embrace, resting his chin on Alf's head. "I know he does, really. I know he knows I love him, and that he doesn't blame me for that moment, and that even the other times that I've said things I wish I could take back that he's forgiven me. I just wish that I could tell him, right now, how proud I am of him, of what a fine son he is. I wish I had told him before he left, just like I wish I said it to Fred, just like I wish I said it to Percy."

"I'm sure he'll love to hear it. When he gets back. Because he will get back. With Percy and Charlie, and you can tell them everything then." Alf got up quickly, and held his hand out to his grandfather. "C'mon, before Gram comes after us!"

Arthur looked down at Alfred, so forgiving, so smart. "I'm proud of you too."

A lighting bright smile answered him. "And I'm proud to be your grandson. But I am your grandson, so you know what that means?" Arthur gave him a questioning look. "I'M HUNGRY!"

The laughter was a little brighter as Arthur followed Alf out of the shed finally.

WWWWWWW

CJ had followed Alf to the shed. He knew that Alf was a little peeved about whatever had occurred between George and his grandfather, and he was afraid their might be a row. And he had seen that Alf himself hadn't looked forward to going out there. But he also knew that Alf was cut from the same cloth as George and would take on responsibility with a capital R. So he went after them.

Alf had left the door cracked open. And with Slytherin cunning, and no trace of embarrassment, CJ eavesdropped. It wasn't a particularly personal conversation, really, and if things got ugly, he wanted to be there for Alf.

He heard.

He heard everything.

Everything about unbreakable vows that he'd ever wanted to know, and literally been unable to ask. Only not what he'd wanted to know really. It was everything he had hoped to never know, to never be true.

The only hope Arthur had offered was that a pair of seven year old could conceivably have botched up the spell.

Right. And what did he have to go on? His spell had been cast by two adults, one a former death eater and the other a decorated, award winning ministry member, working with their own wands, against an eleven year old child. He had as much chance as a fox in a hunt with a thousand hounds.

He was doomed. Utterly doomed, and staring down a choice between destroying those he loved, or suffering a heinous death at his own hands.

Numbly, CJ stumbled away, hoping that in the chaos that was the Weasley clan he wouldn't be missed. Not that he was running, of course…where could he run to?

But he knew that right now, at this moment, the last thing he could do was face these people. Eventually he knew he would, and it would take every ounce of Slytherin in him to do it. But for now, for this moment, he just couldn't be nearby and see the rest of the world keep spinning, even when he now knew he would be soon flung off.


	29. Ch 29 Evasion

Day three in to their tour of the worst areas of Dubrovnik, and George was getting frustrated, and to the end of his rope. Privately he was able to admit that Charlie may have had a point about his propensity to hex any wizard that crossed his path at the moment.

He followed, as unobtrusively as possible, 'Alexei' as he investigated various marketplaces, pubs...even on one occasion a brothel (leaving George thankful for the existence of disinfecting spells) . Everyone knew Ivan Presliezevic. They dismissed him, scorned him, and mocked him, but they knew him. And they had seen him, yesterday, a week ago, last month, by himself, in a crowd, with truffles, without truffles, drinking beer, drinking wine, eating boar, riding a donkey, riding a horse, crawling on all fours...you name it. George was becoming convinced that the discordant information was all part of a conspiracy to keep them from ever finding his brother.

Charlie was in full Angry Russian mode. "I vont to buy many truffles. This Ivan has the best, so all say, and yet none of you here can tell me where I can vind him? This country vill alvays be poor and backward, if so you conduct business!" He slammed his fist down on a bar. George shrunk back against the wall, holding the cloak firmly in place.

Sadly, the clientele of the degenerate pub they were ensconced in now seemed to not even notice his outburst, and Charlie turned to go out, disgust showing firmly on his strangely handsome face.

But as they walked outside, a beggar by the door tugged on Charlie's cape. "You look Ivan?"

Charlie looked down at a decrepit man, apparently a squib, huddled by the garbage. "I seek Ivan who hunts the truffles."

"I take. You give food, yes?" The squib wheezed.

Charlie hesitated a moment; George could tell he was contemplating that it might be a trap. Quietly he came behind his brother and poked him with his wand, not as a threat, but as a reminder that Charlie had backup. Instantly, 'Alexei''s head turned thoughtfully. "I vill give you much food, my friend...if you are being honest vid me. And here, as a promise..." He held out a golden coin. "You will have ten more if to Ivan I go."

Without further words, the beggar grasped the coin and scurried away, beckoning Charlie to follow. George kept his brother in eyeshot at all times.

Dubrovnic consisted of the old, historical city; expensive and picturesque, as well as a new city, which had all the typical charm of 1960's cinderblock construction. But the outskirts of the new city turned in to twisted streets, what had once been countryside to the old city and was now absorbed into the new, as an amalgam of poverty laced slums that were the unfortunate lot of almost any metropolitan area. Into this section they found themselves wandering, winding around alleys that barely held room for a modern moped.

At the end of one decrepit lane was a sad looking building, little more than a shack. The little squib knocked.

"Ivan. Is man to see you, for truffles." The squib said.

"Ivan is sick." A weary, strange voice said. "But Ivan will sell what he has, though it is not much."

At the sound of the voice George felt his knees buckle. Though it was a strange voice, he felt down to the core of his being that his brother had just been found. Judging from the sudden pallor on Charlie's face, he must have thought the same.

The little squib got all excited as the door opened. Indeed, Ivan looked just as expected, though decidedly ill. George had to refrain from turning around and thumping him upside the head.

"You see, you see, I am not useless squib. I help gentleman find his truffles. I do good, yes?"

"Yes, my friend. You do good. And do not let others call you useless. Those who do are not good wizards." Charlie couldn't help letting some of his real self come through. He carefully counted out ten coins, as promised, and added two more for good measure. "These, are to make sure you tell none others of what I have done here. Many wish to by truffles, and I want to make sure they do not find my prize."

"I have not seen master before in my life. I have just taken coin and led you astray. That is what I tell." The squib bowed low. "You is good master." He added, before scurrying away joyfully with his bounty.

Quickly George and Charlie pressed inside, closing the door. "Blimey, Percy, I know you look ill, but what the heck are you THINKING?" Charlie asked, the words tripping over Alexei's lips.

Ivan cringed backwards. "Vot? Vot is this Percy?"

George slipped off the cloak, revealing himself. "It's okay, Perce..." He soothed, fearing that the Alexei persona had scared his brother. "It's us...that's Charlie in there, hard as it is to believe he could ever be that good looking."

Rather than settle Ivan down, the sudden appearance of a man where there had been none sent him scurrying down to his old mattress, pressing himself against the wall. "Ivan is good squib, masters...does no harm. Please...Ivan still hurts from injuries...for angering Mister Malfoy...please do not hurt Ivan."

George and Charlie came up short at Malfoy's name. More gently, Charlie got down on one knee and tried to sooth the man before him as he might a Dragon pup. "I vill not hurt you. You have my vord on that. I am not a wizard like Malfoy. In vact, I vill help you, iv you are hurt."

Ivan clutched a bottle to him. "Ivan has medicine. Ivan takes medicine each hour. It does not zeem to help pain from broken ribs, though."

"Malfoy broke your ribs?" George forced himself to keep calm, though he was seriously desiring to throttle somebody.

"No, no...Ivan broke own ribs, while writhing to get avay from Cruciatus curse. That vos Molfoy." He sank back against the bed.

Charlie looked up at George, worried. "How do we know this isn't the real Ivan?"

"According to what Harry was able to find out, the real Ivan died two years ago in a mountain landslide. The ministry has been using his persona ever since; they had brewed a very large batch of polyjuice while he was cooperating with them." George proceeded to kneel down on the other side of Ivan, and took his bottle of 'medicine'. He sniffed. "And this is, in fact, polyjuice."

"Right. So why doesn't he..." Charlie frowned hard. "Ivan...do you know the name Percy Weasley?"

The squib shook his head. "Ivan knows nothing."

"Ivan...do you remember what you were doing two weeks ago?" Charlie knew Percy had been home at that period.

"Ivan remembers nothing."

"Why?" George leaned in, handing Percy a vial of pain reliever he had brought along. "Why does Ivan remember nothing?"

"Ivan doesn't know. He remembers four days ago..." A frown graced his features. "Four days ago Malfoy was angry, angry, angry, and there was a flash of light and Ivan falls down. Then Ivan wakes up and Malfoy is still angry and uses Cruciatus, and Ivan's body hurts, tries to escape. Oh, Malfoy, he curses for what seems like hours, and Ivan begs that other squib, Sergei, who you just saw, and that squib brings Ivan home. Ivan tries to recover now."

"Do you remember anything before four days ago?" Charlie asked, insistently. "Even hunting truffles?"

"Ivan knows he hunts truffles. He knows all the best spots. But is funny, since Malfoy got angry, Ivan doesn't remember other things. Ivan knows he lives here, but does not remember vot he does here. Ivan knows parents is dead, but cannot picture. Ivan knows he is squib, but does not know iv he ever tried magic. Ivan knows he must take medicine, but cannot remember why." The wearied wrinkles on the man's face eased. "You is good wizards, help Ivan heal. Ivan feel better."

"It's definitely Percy." George said, under his breath. "If he were a squib the potion wouldn't have worked."

"I think he's been obliviated." Charlie watched as Ivan seemed to doze. "That pretty much would explain his behavior. Thankfully he at least at some level knew it was important to take the potion."

"Blimey, Charlie...what does obliviation under polyjuice do? Is it Ivan who's been obliviated, or Percy?" George fretted. "If he stops taking the potion, will we get Percy back?"

"Neither of us are equipped to handle this one." Charlie pointed out. "We need to get Ivan here back to England, and let Mum, Fleur and Michelle get a look at him."

Ivan's eyes fluttered open. "Ivan cannot leave. The bad wizard vot watches house follows."

"What?" George jumped up and looked out the grimy window. In the shadows, he spotted a wizard, dressed all in black, eyeing the house. "Ivan, when did this Wizard get there."

"He is friend of Malfoy and man called Diggory..."

_Blast that bloated bastard!_

"...Though I do not know how I know this. Has been there since Malfoy got angry."

George scowled, and Charlie came up next to him.

"This just got tricky." Charlie pointed out.

"I realize." George leaned against the window. "We can get him out of here easy enough, but they'll know something is afoot within a day or so. We have to get him home, but I don't want to blow up whatever Percy was working on." _Especially if it involved CJ._

Charlie looked at him. "I don't get how your brain is working, little brother. HOW are we getting him out easy enough?"

"They know you walked in here to buy truffles. You will walk out with a bag of truffles. And Ivan here will follow you out in the invisibility cloak."

"But...wait..." A frown came over Charlie as he followed George's logic. "But that will leave you here, George!"

"A technicality." George brushed it aside.

Charlie grabbed him and spun him around. "You are NOT a technicality, George!" He said harshly. "Don't let me hear you say that again, EVER!"

With wide eyes, George managed a smile. "Right. What I meant was that, my getting out of here unseen is a technicality, Charlie. I know you weren't at school with me except your last year, but believe it or not I'm pretty adept at sneaking around places."

"Oh." Charlie gave a wry chuckle. "I forget, I suppose. But you're right. Even if we get Percy home, it will only take a while before they realize he's gone."

"Exactly." George gave Charlie a wicked grin. "Alexei, my friend...we need a plan!"

WWWWWWW

From the Diary of CJ Diggory:

Fact: I am doomed.

Fact: I cannot escape the curse that binds me.

Fact: I will not hurt George Weasley or his family.

Fact: If I do not do as instructed, I will die a terrible death.

Fact: I can't tell anybody any of this.

Well, that pretty much sums up my life in a nutshell. Any questions?

I spent a good chunk of time once I first realized all of the above just absorbing the cold reality. I actually went and sat on Alf's dad's Grave for a bit. It seemed appropriate that I should start getting to know him now, as I will be meeting him soon. I wonder if he is as nice as George?

Alf found me there. I told him I was worried about George, and Fred's grave seemed like a good way to find some peace for the moment. He took it at face value; after all, he knows that sometimes I get overwhelmed with the sheer volume of family at The Burrow. And worrying about George makes sense enough, and it still does...it's been three days and we haven't heard a thing. I think Gramps is going to climb a wall soon if we don't find out something.

Anyway, after letting myself absorb the shock of my fate for that day, I have called on reserves of Slytherin cunning I didn't know I had. I have been acting entirely appropriately...not quite as outgoing as the rest of the family, as I never have been, but still supportive and helpful..

And at some point, I came to a place of peace. It isn't an act anymore.

Look, I am going to die. I don't want to die how I heard Gramps describe, of course; that scared the hell out of me. But neither will I destroy Wheezes. I've thought my Dad's game plan over, and it's pretty simple...destroying the store will prevent George from meeting that contract, and he'll have invested a lot of money in those fireworks. Pretty smooth, in fact; bankrupt George AND cause a war. So of course I will not do that.

Suicide it is. I was all set to crawl off somewhere last night, and take care of it...I snuck out and went to Fred's grave again...but a feeling came over me. It was powerful, right enough. And everything in it told me to wait. I have, roughly, nine months until my birthday. That is my gift. Nine months to live, and to enjoy my life. And I am going to. I've earned that.

When the time comes, I will find a way to make it as painless as possible. Miss Shell, I know, keeps a good supply of pretty potent meds under lock and key. Alf or I could get in to them if needed; she has no reason to think we would have miscreant purposes in their use. Once they realize why I did it...and I will leave this diary behind as a record...I have no doubt they will forgive me. They will miss me, and I feel badly about that. But they will understand.

I will live this year to the fullest. And I will enjoy it. And then I will move on to the next side.

It is amazing how much better I feel now that there is no more fight.

I just hope I stay this strong.

WWWWWWW

Michelle looked over to where Alf was sitting, holding Freddo on his lap and reading to him from his favorite book, Green Eggs and Ham. Freddo interrupted Alf, lifting his sleepy head from his brother's shoulder. "Af? Where Da?"

"Da went to find Uncle Percy. He'll be back soon." Alf soothed.

Before the story could resume, Freddo asked one more question. "Day?"

"Probably not today. But soon."

Freddo frowned a bit, and Michelle worried he would start fretting; Alf was terrific but he must be near the end of his own tether worried about George; it would be easy to let that frustration show and it would scare Freddo if it did.

But she worried needlessly. Alf continued to read Freddo asleep, finally closing the book as Freddo nodded off, and only then did he give a great sigh, and rub at his own eyes.

"I've got him." Michelle came up to the two of them, lifting Freddo from Alf's lap. She stopped to squeeze his shoulder, and gave him the best smile she could manage. It wasn't very good, truth be told. But Alf understood that as well, and replied with the best smile he could manage, one that was equally wan.

CJ popped in to the room then, giving them a nod. What a rock he had been these past days! Michelle noticed. That first day after George left, she'd worried about him, he'd seemed to withdraw completely. Alf had explained that sometimes CJ felt a little smothered at The Burrow, so perhaps that was not entirely unexpected.

Somewhere along the way, though, he'd adjusted to the chaos, and become a life line for both her and Alf. He always seemed to know when one of them was close to breaking, when they needed a hand or a moment alone, or even just a calming presence. Amazing, really. What a fine young man he was. And not for the first time, Michelle wondered at how stupid Amos Diggory must be.

"I'll take him." CJ smoothly eased Freddo in to his own arms. "You lot might want to go for a walk. Gram's pretty fretful and she and Aunt Ginny are going at it like crazy people in the kitchen.

"Good point…Alf, let's go hunt for tomatoes, eh?" She nudged him, and he slid off of the sofa, laying the book aside.

They walked for a bit out towards Molly's tangled gardens. Like so much at The Burrow, the plants seemed to thrive on controlled chaos. It never looked like it made much sense, but somehow it came together right enough in the end. She looked down at the tomato plants, and she and Alf picked a couple of fairly ripe ones.

"Dad's are better than these." Alf said, with a grimace. "And they're probably rotting on the vine back in Godric's Hollow right now."

"No doubt. He'll go nuts when he gets home; it's going to ruin a season of sauce for him if he misses the full harvest." She paused, and she met Alf's eye from across a row of plants. Alf's gaze was worried for a moment, and she had no words to sooth him. He wasn't a child. He understood everything as well as she did. Worse for him, really; she was at least capable of doing something legally; he must feel completely helpless.

She reached over to him and squeezed his shoulder. "He wouldn't miss his entire tomato harvest." She said firmly. "He won't miss your return to Hogwarts. And he still has to take you boys shopping. He'll be back."

With a shock, she watched as Alf's gaze traveled to the house, and then watched his face crumple. He dropped several tomatoes and hugged his arms across his chest defensively while he fought for composure. Michelle dropped her own collection, and rushed over to him, draping her own arms around his shoulders…heavens, how much had he grown this summer?

Alf fought for his voice. "Nobody. Should have to grow up without knowing their father."

She understood, then. And though she could no longer rest her chin on his head, she leaned in against him. "Nobody will." She vowed.

They both knew it was entirely beyond their control. But it felt better to pretend otherwise.

WWWWWWW

"This is insane, George." Charlie muttered. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, and got frustrated at the short cut that had replaced his normally longer red tresses.

"If you haven't realized before now that I am occasionally on the crazy side then you weren't paying much attention growing up." George pointed out.

Ivan had woken up and was looking from George to Charlie, frowning. "You argue like brothers. But this cannot be. You are not even from same country!" He watched what George was doing. "Vy ugly one running string around Ivan house?"

Charlie gave out a great guffaw of laughter and George hit him on the head, with a glare. "His head's addled, don't make fun of him." He looked over to Ivan. "I am going to make a pretty light show for the bad wizard across the street. But not until after you do what we told you, remember?"

"Ivan remember. I get under special cloak and follow Alexei with truffles. Ivan stay quiet." He nodded briskly.

Charlie was beside George next. "I still don't like this. Do I need to tell you again that I am not going back to England without you?"

"Don't be daft. We have a safe house. We can floo from there." The laws of international apparition prevented George from leaving directly from Ivan's house. "Besides, I need to be here well after you leave to set the show off."

"And HOW…" Charlie muttered. "Are you going to get out after you blow this place up?"

"I am a WIZARD." George said, starting to get exasperated. "I have laid a long enough fuse. I will crawl out that back window there and wind back to our rendezvous point. I will not go anywhere near the pub where Ivan was found. Why are you having such a hard time dealing with this?" George threw his arms up.

Charlie suddenly clasped George into a quick hug, smacking his back hard. "I wish you'd taken the polyjuice. Then I'd be the one staying behind." He muttered.

"Well, I didn't." George calmed down, pushing Charlie off of himself with a fond if frustrated grin. "I will be at the meeting house by midnight, and we will get the hell out of here, letting these fools think that Ivan managed to blow himself up by accident. No problem."

Funny, the more George said that, the more Charlie worried. But they had to do this; they weren't going to cure Percy from here. "Right. Cloak on, Ivan." He kept his eyes on George as Percy obeyed willingly, and he picked up a bag of truffles from Ivan's root cellar. "By midnight, George." He repeated.

Then Charlie strode with great purpose out the front door, the invisible Ivan following him meekly, and they walked on without the guard wizard doing more than raising his head for a second.

WWWWWWW

George figured five hours would do it. He wanted to make sure that his little pyrotechnic show was far enough removed from "Alexei's" departure that the Guard who was going to witness the explosion didn't connect the two; and even if he did, it would be far too late to try and follow Charlie by then.

He paced, poked around the tiny shack, decided he'd seen all he needed to within fifteen minutes, and finally sat down with a huff, and took out a notebook to start diagramming some tentative fireworks models. Hell, would time never pass?

It did eventually, of course. Finally, looking at his watch and seeing the agreed on time, he rose and looked again. The same wizard was across the street, looking utterly bored. George crossed to the back window and slid it open. It led to a filthy and foul little alleyway that dead-ended to the left just a house or so down; to the right it extended about two hundred feet before turning into the main street (if you could call it that). That would then put George in view of the guard. He was counting on two things: first, he would have no idea which house George had come from, and second, that the blast that should be happening right about that point would be enough of a distraction for George to slink away.

Pausing for a moment, he took out the collection of coins he had on a chain that acted as conduits between him, Michelle, Alf and CJ. They wouldn't work from over here, of course. But it still felt good to hold them in his hands for a second. He wanted to be home, to hold his wife and embrace his kids. And by midnight tonight, he would be.

He hopped out the window, landing with Weasley-twin stealth, and turned and tapped his wand against the end of the fuse. "Conflagro!" He whispered.

There was a spark, and then a sizzle as the little blue flame worked its way down the twine.

He ran lightly down the passage, mentally counting to twenty. He had just arrived at the corner when he hit nineteen. Next it should…

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

George grinned. Perfect timing that was! And clever demolition; he was pretty sure that was rigged to collapse the shack inward on itself without damaging adjacent buildings. He glanced back; a surge of sooty smoke was headed his way, and he darted in to the main street.

A few squibs had come out of their houses and were running forward to the disaster; George spotted the guard coming forward with his eyes on the gaping hole where Ivan's house used to be. Quickly he turned in the other direction, as quickly as he could without looking suspect, and he darted through alleyways for a good ten minutes.

He had a strong sense of direction, and it didn't take long for him to find the main street out of the slums that their guide had brought them on. Strolling now, he put his hands in his pockets, and walked at a leisurely pace. No reason to rouse attention. He remembered one wedding at Aunt Muriel's…he and Fred had, in the midst of a busy dance, planted a few dung bombs on a timed fuse by the band. He and Fred had dashed around the house, and then emerged with a calm stroll, ostensibly arguing over Quidditch. They walked right up to their family without a care in the world, and were visibly teasing Percy over something when the bombs went off.

They kept the innocence up, and he remembered Molly indignantly insisting that her boys CLEARLY couldn't have done that; why, they were right next to her the entire time. Even Dad had been fooled.

Looking innocent…it was an art form.

He walked though a plaza, and considered stopping for a glass of wine, but figured Charlie would kill him if he was THAT nonchalant. Just two more turns now; a left and twenty feet later a right, and he'd be there. He made that first left…

And walked straight in to Lucius Malfoy.

They actually bumped right in to each other.

"Excuse me, I didn't see you…" George came up short as he realized WHO he'd managed to find.

"Bloody idiot of a wizard, I ought to…" Malfoy came up short as he realized who he was looking at.

They stared for what seemed like a thousand years, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Hate filled Malfoy's face, and though there was no reason he should have to run, George decided in this moment it was prudent. He tore past Lucius, and down towards the corner.

He didn't hear what the spell was that he cast; he felt it whiz past him as he turned, and made it to the door. Entering and slamming it behind him, he looked up to a startled Charlie, no longer under polyjuice, who was standing by the floo getting dressed in his normal robes. George grabbed his as well (he'd removed them as too bulky under the invisibility cloak) and just looked at Charlie. "Malfoy! We have to leave now!" His voice came out in a jagged breath; he'd run so hard he had a stitch in his side.

Charlie shoved Ivan into the fireplace, and George joined them as he fastened his robes, and with a puff of powder, they disappeared.

WWWWWWW

Malfoy's rage was like the sun, burning hot and eternal. Bloody George Weasley! What the hell was HE doing here? Trembling he managed to get the door open of the house that the terrified witch he'd just cursed had told him the red-head had entered.

The room was empty. A small notebook had been dropped, and he picked it up, barely registering the gibberish on the page. The floo had been used; Weasley had obviously left from here. But the question is, why??

He strode angrily out into the street, and down towards his favorite pub. Amos wasn't there, he noted, which was just as well. He didn't want to alarm him if in some way George was on to the plan. Amos wasn't stable, obviously, and Lucius needed him to be as together as possible to keep this going.

He heard from Gareth Goyle though…a cousin of his death eater friends…it seemed that somehow Ivan Presliezevic had gotten himself killed.

Hm. Was Weasley involved somehow? Granted, he hadn't been anywhere near the slum Ivan lived in…and Gareth swore nobody even remotely resembling a Weasley had been nearby. There had been a Russian buying truffles…may very well have been the Russian mob, for all Malfoy knew. He didn't know much about that squib, and frankly didn't care to know, as long as he didn't interfere.

He made his way back to the hotel, calming slowly, though still…concerned. Yes, he was concerned. Which was the only reason that he was about to do what he was about to do.

He came into his room, and walked to the floo with the purpose of a nice little firechat.

"DRACO MALFOY, Hogwarts!" He sneered into the fire.

Within about thirty seconds his son's blank, unemotional face came before him. "Father. THIS is most unexpected." There was no joy in the voice of his disobedient progeny. Which was appropriate, as he had no joy himself. Still, Draco might…just might help him. Well, not intentionally, and not for his real purpose, but still.

His Slytherin mind came together. "Draco, my son…I just wanted to tell you what I just saw. You think your George Weasley is so wonderful. Well, I just spotted him having a liaison right here in Croatia."

"Father, you are twisted." Draco barely raised his eyebrows. "Are you even sure you saw him, or are you having your own little peculiar brand of fun."'

"Indeed not. But surely…" His voice became wheedling. "Surely you would know if he was here? I bet you can't give me one good reason for his presence."

Draco's eyebrows remained at attention this time. "Why would you care?"

"Well, since you have ABANDONED your creed for those…things…I thought you ought to know that they aren't any better than anybody else. In fact, worse, I think…not being upfront about it. Well, go on…prove I'm wrong."

Draco shook his head, and then paused. "Hold on, Father."

He walked out of view. He reappeared after three minutes. "I cannot believe that I even pretend to listen to your malice and spite. George Weasley has a fireworks contract in Croatia. Apparently he's hit a creative block, and he's gone over to Dubrovnik for inspiration." Draco frowned most distastefully. "And nothing you can say is going to convince me he was with a woman other than his wife." His expression went back to bored. "Don't firechat me again, old man."

With a crackle the connection was broken.

Lucius gave a smug and relieved smile, one so evil it would have frozen pure alcohol. "You are the pathetic one, Draco. Falling right in to my hands, to prove your hero blameless."

He got what he needed. George was in town for the commission. Nothing more. No connection to the strange Russian or to that bloody squib. Their plan was perfectly, wonderfully safe. He glanced again at the notebook left behind, and now saw it for what it was…fireworks diagrams. Of course!

And he looked forward even more to the moment when George Weasley lost everything.

WWWWWWW

Draco quickly spelled his floo so it would no longer accept firechats from Croatia. Blast his evil father! And then, then, he started laughing.

"Father? Can I come out now?" Scorpius peaked around his door; Draco had ordered him to his room as soon as he realized his father was calling.

"Yes, my son. Come!" He reached his arms out, and Scorpius flew in to them. "Your Grandfather is up to nasty tricks again, but I outsmarted him."

"Of course you did, Father. You are much smarter than he is, and a thousand times nicer." Scorpius said with pride. "You would never let him hurt the Weasleys!"

Draco's eyes narrowed just a bit. "Scorpius, were you _listening?_" He watched as his son blushed, and then he gave a smile. _Good boy_, he thought. A Slytherin in all the best ways. "Well, as it would seem that you listened, you are right, I wouldn't ever tell Grandfather anything that would hurt our friends. Now, go set the table; it will be dinner shortly."

Draco watched with satisfaction as his son went to do as he was told. And thought with satisfaction over his choices.

He'd known his father was _managing_ him at once. He had no idea what his father was up to; but he'd been at the Diagon Alley shop just yesterday and had a brief chat with a worried Ron Weasley. He knew that Percy had been missing and George and Charlie had gone after him, and had been gone for several days. Draco hadn't known where, although now he guessed that it was in fact Croatia. Which meant that Percy was probably investigating something for the ministry that involved the situation over there, which NO DOUBT involved his foolish father.

But the man had only mentioned George. And Draco had thought quickly of a plausible lie (Michelle had spent much of last term moaning about George working himself to death over those fireworks). Clearly, there was no reason for his father to think either Charlie or Percy were involved.

"You raised me too well, Father." Draco chuckled.

At that moment the house-elves appeared with their food, and he rose happily, glad to know he'd done something right this time.


	30. Ch 30 Love Hurts

The pandemonium in The Burrow when Charlie, George, and Percy appeared was instantaneous. Hurried bursts of speech from all parties, mostly Charlie and Fleur, with a shrieking Penny and Molly punctuating them, were the norm. Arthur had only time for a quick squeeze of George's shoulder before turning with sick eyes towards Percy, who still resembled Ivan. Michelle embraced George, making him hitch for speech, but Fleur anxiously called her onwards; this was a serious medical issue and she would need help.

"Go." George managed a smile, still feeling strangely unsettled after his encounter with Malfoy. "I told you I'd come back."

She kissed him quickly, and then the assembled hubbub disappeared up the stairs.

George didn't follow. He felt strange, and couldn't place why. His young nephew Ricky, who had been the only one of the kids inside as they arrived, looked over at him. "D'you want some water, Uncle George?"

"Nah." George sank down, trying to quell his shaking. Really, his nerves had gotten bloody soft. "I'd like to see Alf and CJ, though." He asked wistfully.

Ricky gave him a bright smile. "I'll go get 'em." And he darted outside.

The chair seemed almost embracing. But blast it, he was still shaken up by that close encounter. Stupid, really! How could he have been so calm plotting a fake death and the deception that followed and then end up quivering like a child because he'd run in to bloody Lucius Malfoy? He scowled at himself in anger, and then winced. Hell, he was out of shape, too…it was like he'd pulled a muscle in his side.

"DAD!" Alf's voice carried loudly, as he clattered in the kitchen. "Dad, you're okay!"

CJ was behind him, looking calmer and happier than George could ever remember him being. "Course he is." He teased Alf, though his smile was a little shaky. Both boys leaned in, almost piling on top of him.

George started to welcome their hugs, when it felt like his side was on fire. "HELL!" He gasped, as pain suddenly filled him.

"Dad?" Alf questioned. Then he pulled his hand away. It was soaked in red paint.

Only…

Alf and CJ both went wan. "_Dad!"_ Alf gasped, pulling George's robes away. A large gash in his side, with the clear scorch marks of a curse on the edges, was bleeding steadily. Alf immediately packed the robes against the wound.

"Hell!" George realized…that stitch in his side had in fact been something more. "Malfoy bloody got me!"

He heard Alf saying he was going to get Michelle, and he felt CJ press in next to him, holding the robes tight against his side. Then the world got rather spotty, like bad reception on a muggle telly, and it faded to black.

WWWWWWW

Michelle and Fleur were in quick conference, as Ivan's features slowly turned back in to Percy. It was taking too long, or at least, longer than normal.

"Eet is the obliviate, I theenk." Fleur chewed on her lower lip nervously. "Ivan's past is gone, true."

"We just don't know what Percy's going to remember. And changing back is going to be rough, clearly." Michelle added. She and Fleur looked at each other, and Fleur nodded, accepting a vial that Michelle kept handy for emergencies.

"Wha…what are you giving him?" Molly asked wringing her hands as she watched her daughters-in-law.

Michelle watched as Fleur got the vial down. "A mild sedative, Molly. I think we need to keep him sedated until he's fully out from polyjuice. His trying to go through the change, spending time half obliviated, would frankly terrify him if he were conscious."

"MUM!" Alf gasped.

Every head in the room turned around to him; all startled, Michelle looking shocked and Molly looking slightly annoyed.

"Alf…" Arthur said firmly. "Now is not really the time…"

"Dad's hurt!" He blurted out, looking around. "He's got a great gash in his side…said something about Malfoy getting him!" And he held up his hand, still glistening with blood.

It took Michelle about three seconds to pound down the stairs behind Alf.

WWWWWWW

George felt cold at first. An increasing numbness, really, more than cold. It reminded him of when he was a kid, maybe five years old, and he'd been playing hide and seek with Fred, Charlie and Bill in the middle of January. He and Fred had split up for once, and George had decided that the little shed on the border of their neighbor's yard was the perfect place to hide. Only that neighbor had put some kind of spell that prevented him from getting back out, and he'd been stuck there for some time. He remembered at first shivering, his teeth rattling as if to break themselves. And then the cold began to almost hurt, and he had to fight tears. Finally, though, there was an almost blessed numbness; a nap would solve everything, really it would.

He remembered finally opening his eyes, and feeling the incredible tenderness of his father's embrace in a living room with a roaring fire and swaddled in warmed blankets, with a wet cloth on his face. He remembered Mum fussing, trying to get tea down his throat, and blinking up in to Dad's face creased with anxiety.

"Sorry Dad." He'd mumbled, assuming he'd done something wrong.

"Hush, Georgie…but when I get my hands on Moreaux I'm going to have a word or two with him about that shed…" Arthur's voice shook.

"Really, what on earth he was thinking…our kids have always roamed their yards together…it could have been anybody…" Molly began to stuff more blankets around him.

Fred was sitting on the floor next to him, his face ashen. "George? You okay, George?" He asked, biting nervously on his lower lip. "Your lips were BLUE!"

George would have given his brother a thumbs up, but he couldn't move his arms. He managed a smile instead. "Wicked." He'd answered, knowing that Fred would know that meant he was okay.

He remembered drifting off again, and vaguely recalled his father chewing out Charlie and Bill pretty severely for letting their little brother get in to that kind of danger…

That was a long time ago now. Wasn't it? Anyway, he was numb like that. Only this time his side hurt, instead of his teeth and limbs. Though it was funny, he felt strange, like his Dad was there. Like his Dad was holding him again, but that was silly…George was an adult now, with five kids of his own.

Five? How in the hell did I manage that? He wondered. Were Alf and CJ okay? Oh, yes…he'd seen them. Not Freddo and the twins, yet. He hoped he got a chance, but damn, he was numb.

The twins. He wondered if Fred could hear him now. He knew that sometimes Fred was there when he needed him. Did Fred know he had twins now? He wondered what he would say.

"Wicked." A voice came to him.

He looked over and saw his twin brother across from him. "Bloody right it is." He replied.

WWWWWWWW

Michelle was shaken. The curse appeared to be something resembling Sectumspurta…the same thing that had cost her husband an ear. This time it didn't appear to have hit him fully, and it was only a chunk of skin on his side that was missing. A pretty good sized chunk, actually, but thankfully no organs were damaged. She managed to do a patch of sorts, enticing the skin in the area to grow over the gash after she'd stopped the bleeding.

The bleeding. There had been so much blood; his dark magenta robes had been soaked with it, their color helping to hide the damage.

"Why didn't he say something?" Charlie kept asking. "We apparated from the safe house to the Eastern European headquarters, and it took a good hour to get things settled. I mean, it was crazy, but…"

"Shock, Charlie." Michelle said, letting herself think as a medi-witch, because if she started thinking like a wife she was going to start screaming. "His adrenaline was pumping and he was feeling no pain, literally."

"I should have noticed!" Charlie kept beating himself up. "George looked ghastly, but I figured it was just that run in with Malfoy…"

"Charlie…" Arthur, who was sitting on the arm of the sofa by George's head, worriedly stroking his hair back off his face. "Stop it. You and George were both focused on Percy. This was bloody Malfoy's doing." Arthur's face fell into hurt lines. "It's my fault for always putting you lot in the cross hairs…I made you all targets."

"I think it's safe to say George wouldn't have you taking the blame either." Michelle said, sitting back on her heels and sighing. She cast a re-hydration spell, and George's lips immediately became less parched. "He's lost a lot of blood, and he'll have another scar…but he'll be okay." She felt herself shaking then, and Alf and CJ both came over next to her, holding on tight.

Bill, who had floo'd home as soon as he'd heard, came down from checking in on Percy. "Perce's almost back to normal, but still out cold." He said, then looked with concern at George. "He alright?"

Arthur had managed to slide on the couch, behind George, wrapping an arm around him. "He's cold." Arthur murmured.

"That's the blood loss. I gave him a replenishing potion, but it's going to take some time to get him back to normal." Michelle managed.

"Blimey, he looks like that time we nearly lost him in Moreaux's shed, remember?" Bill shook his head grimly.

A wail came from upstairs, although not an unhappy one. Michelle tweaked her head. "Katie?" She asked.

A second wail joined the first. "Both. Ugh."

CJ helped her up. "I'd say we could take care of it, but that sounds like an 'I'm hungry' wail."

"That it is." Michelle looked with worry towards her husband, and Arthur gave her a firm look in reply.

"I can take care of him. He's my _son_!" He insisted.

Alf was looking at him carefully, and then he turned to Michelle. "I think Gramps wants to be with him alone." He whispered.

Michelle nodded. Alf had told her about the conversation that day in the midst of Arthur's muggle plug collection. "C'mon, then…we'll check the babies, and then check in on your Uncle Percy." She put an arm around each young man, mostly to steady herself, then looked behind her. "You'll call if I'm needed?" She asked.

Arthur nodded, though he didn't take his eyes off of George's face, and soon Charlie, Bill and Molly followed Michelle, leaving father and son alone.

Arthur kept stroking George's face gently, willing him to open his eyes. Again, he was having a hard time finding his voice. Damn it all, it couldn't happen. Percy was upstairs, a shadow of himself, and when he'd had a few seconds where he might have said something to George, he'd instead just squeezed his shoulder and been swept along in the entourage.

He cleared his throat finally and looked down at the pale face of his son. "I am so proud of you." He said, finally, his voice quaking on each word. "Always have been." He added. "I'm sorry that I let you leave without saying it. Just…sorry." Arthur sighed. "And you can't hear a bloody word I'm saying."

"Wicked." George mumbled quietly. Arthur's eyes widened, and he reached over for a glass of water to put by George's lips.

"George…George, what did you say?" Arthur trembled, dribbling more water down George's shirt than in his mouth. His son's eyes blinked open slowly.

"I should…" George managed a smile. "Let you keep thinking I couldn't hear you, but I'm afraid you'll drown me."

Arthur quickly put down the water, and tried to wipe off George's chin. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Dad…quit saying you're sorry." George frowned as he tried to sit, and then a spasm of pain came over him. "Bloody hell…"

"Malfoy got you good." Arthur scowled deeply. "My children shouldn't keep paying for my own follies…we were enemies at school, but that should have ended years ago…" He checked the bandage Michelle had packed against the wound, and was relieved to see no blood on it.

"Oi." George sank against his father as the pain passed. "No, Dad…Harry and Draco were enemies at school. They both grew up. Lucius is just a bloody evil git. I'm quite sure he's tortured, maimed, and even killed many people who weren't related to you."

"Right." Arthur kept one arm wrapped tightly around George, and didn't speak for a moment. "Michelle's upstairs with the twins now…and the boys. She and Fleur are tending Percy…have him sedated. Nobody sure yet what that obliviate will do to him."

"Got it. She's going to be pissed…I wasn't supposed to get hurt." George's mouth curved up in a half smile, and then looked at his father's arm as if it were a foreign object. "Aren't I just a tad old for this?"

Arthur held him tighter. "How old will Alf have to be for you not to hold him tight when he's gone and nearly gotten himself killed?"

"Point." George's smile became wistful. "And it was such a perfect plan, too…I do hope Malfoy's seeing me hasn't mucked up Kingsley's plan, whatever it is."

"At this point, George, Kingsley can shove his plans up his arse, for all I care." Arthur's voice was firm. "The ministry has drawn the last ounce of blood from my family that I will ever allow."

WWWWWWW

Harry was, at that moment, having a similar argument with the Minister of Magic. He had, having been alerted of the rescue of Percy, figured that his boss would want to know. And he did want to know. Only, Kingsley was furious, FURIOUS, that George and Charlie had gone after Percy at all.

He paced, his long arms behind his back, and his normally dignified face drawn into a deep scowl. "Blast it all, Charlie and George Weasley haven't got a lick of subtlety between the two. They could very well have mucked up the entire operation. What were they THINKING?" He pounded a fist on to his desk.

Harry, for obvious reasons, didn't intimidate easily, and just turned an unfathomable green-eyed stare on the Minister. "They were thinking of rescuing their brother. I don't imagine they gave a damned about much else. Although you can question Charlie as you wish about how they accomplished that. We gave him Polyjuice in the form of a Russian business man, and George had my cloak. You cannot question George, as I understand that once again George has taken a serious injury for the order."

"Bah!" Kingsley turned a scathing glare on Harry. "There is no order any longer Mr. Potter. Because there is no Voldemort. What they did wasn't some kind of order mission; it was personal."

"On some level, wasn't everything about the Order of the Phoenix personal?" Harry pointed out, not at all bothered. "Wasn't the reason behind everything the safety of our families and loved ones, and their rights to grow up free of terror?"

Kingsley had moved on, however, looking over folders. "And now, because of Ms. Granger-Weasley, the persona of Alexei Grimskov has been made unavailable for future use. She should lose her job." He threatened.

"Fire her, and watch me walk away as well." Harry pointed out. "She didn't do anything I wouldn't have done, with or without your permission."

Their eyes met, each of them not blinking. Kingsley's eyes narrowed, as if he were seeing Harry Potter for the first time. "Do you want my job, Mr. Potter? Is that what you are threatening?"

Harry scoffed. "I don't want your job; never have. Not any more than Dumbledore wanted Fudge's. If you consider me a threat, you have only your own mirror to look at for the reason why, the same as Fudge." Harry gave a little shake. "I don't know what you were thinking anyway, sending Percy off on this mission."

"I never wanted to send him, I wanted to send YOU." Kingsley snapped back.

Once again, a staring war was engaged, this time with Harry breaking first. "Excuse me?"

"I wanted to send you, and Weasley went ballistic. Informed me that you'd given more than your fair share in the name of free wizardom, and that it was high time he paid a price of his own." Kingsley sagged suddenly. "Not that I regret it, actually; Percy was doing a damned fine job these past months. I've been impressed as hell with him."

Harry was still reeling with what he'd just learned, but he pulled himself together. "So why, if Percy was so damned valuable to you, didn't you send an official team after him?"

Kingsley straightened up. "Men are lost in war sometimes, Mr. Potter. Good men, sometimes. Percy Weasley understood the risk he was taking. I don't like the sacrifice, but sometimes it must be made."

"But this is not OUR war." Harry pointed out. "Not to be callous; I mean, send Filipowski what he needs to fight, but why should we send our own men and women? I don't recall them sending any help when we were going through our own hell. It just is not OUR war." Harry repeated.

Kingsley shook his head. "Your brother in law thought it was ours. I know damned well he felt connected in some way to the evil that lurks out there. I'm just not sure how."

A lower clerk poked her head into the room. "Excuse me, Sir…there's a Mr. Malfoy to see you."

Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows. "Send him in."

Draco was, on the surface, just as smug as he ever had been in boyhood. To an outsider he was still proud, supercilious, and vaguely conceited. Only those who'd known him a long time could see past his outer façade.

"Potter." Draco said, with a severe nod.

"Malfoy." Harry answered him back, feigning boredom.

"Just as well I have the two of you together…I've had a communication from my father…"

And, for several minutes, Draco regaled them of the story of his firechat, somehow managing to make the entire thing banal. Except, of course, for his own deception of the man, which although on the surface alluded to in calm tones, was clearly intended to be thought of as brilliant subterfuge.

Kingsley's eyes glowed with excitement. "Really? Are you sure he bought your story?"

"In its entirety. I can tell. He was tickled pink at discovering George was there for thoroughly innocent reasons, which in fact is the opposite of what his normal reaction would have been. He should have been disappointed."

"And he only mentioned George? Not Charlie or…" Kingsley shot Harry a look of death that made him bite his tongue.

"Or Percy." Seeing the Minister's dismay, Malfoy shrugged. "I spoke with Ron Weasley earlier in the week, and I knew Percy had gotten in to some scrape that caused Charlie and George to go after him. Not that I had any idea where, of course. Until the old man called. Anyway, no, he mentioned nobody else. And trust me, if Percy had been there, he'd have mentioned it."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because my father always considered Percy to nearly be his highest triumph, and as a result possibly the only thing that disappoints him more than me." Draco looked from one to the other. "Surely you know that it was my father who encouraged Fudge to hire and promote Percy. To stoke his ego. And to drive a wedge between Percy and his family."

Harry hadn't known that, of course; nobody had. But now that Draco said it, it made perfect sense. "It nearly killed Arthur and Molly, those years that Percy exiled himself."

"Exactly. Pulling Percy over to the dark side, away from Arthur, especially, was like a drug to him. He still hates Arthur in an almost childish fashion. It galled him to distraction when Percy left the ministry to return to his family. Now, to have a chance to harm one of the man's children, it's an opportunity he wouldn't miss."

"And he didn't." Harry said, in clipped tones. "He hit George with a nasty curse just before he flooed away."

Some of Draco's enforced apathy fell away, and his eyes widened. "Is he alright?" He asked, urgently.

"He will be, I believe. A lucky escape." Harry took a deep breath and turned to Kingsley. "But that should satisfy you. Your mission is still safe."

Kingsley was rifling through files furiously. "If you gentlemen would excuse me…" He said in rather dismissive tones. "I have to patch this up, now that I know it can be saved.

Draco and Harry both shrugged, and walked out of the office.

Looking at each other in the lobby outside of the minister's quarters, Harry held out his hand. "Thanks for giving us the information."

Draco took it and shook. "I had to. I won't become him. I'd rather think that I was capable of growing up."

"Both of us." Harry admitted.

Draco looked back at the closed office door. "He fears you, you know." Thoughtful ice blue eyes turned back to the man across from him. "Though he shouldn't. You've never wanted power, have you?"

"It's strange how few people have ever realized that." Harry was only surprised that Malfoy would be one of them.

"Why do you keep working here, then?" Draco asked, truly curious. "There can't be so much needed from an Auror now."

"Not so much, though I guess I'd like to keep it that way." Harry admitted. "But the older Kingsley gets, the more he looks at me, and, well, I can see what he's thinking. He's still a good man…but…"

"But he's been in power a long time." Draco pointed out. "You know, very few cultures, muggle or otherwise, do well with leaders with no limited term. A good leader grows jaded, or fearful. Eventually they become more concerned with keeping their job than doing it." Draco blushed suddenly. "And would you believe I heard THAT line in a muggle movie?"

"And where did Draco Malfoy see a muggle movie?" Harry felt a smile tug at his lips.

"Arthur Weasley keeps some muggle contraption in his classroom that shows them. With Scorpius and I roaming Hogwarts now, it is amazing the things I can get into."

Harry gave a chuckle, and then went to shake Draco's hand again. "I'll extend your wishes to the family, shall I?"

"To George particularly." Draco insisted. Then he thought a moment. "You know, thinking about a new Minister of Magic…"

"Don't." Harry urged. "I can't speak for him, but George's wife would kill you!"

WWWWWWW

Three days later, George, still feeling rather tender, was sitting in a chair next to Percy's sick bed. Percy had not woken up, though the potion should have worn off. A thorough exam by Fleur and Michelle revealing nothing, they had called in Angelina's husband, Matthias Morgainne. Morgainne pronounced Percy's coma-like trance to be a result of his repeated and extensive use of Polyjuice, and not the Obliviate curse. His body, Matthias insisted, needs rest, and it is taking it.

So the family took turns reading to Perce from the Daily Prophet, or the Quibbler, with George able to do reasonable imitations of Luna Lovegood.

"Oh, look, Percy…they've seen a full scale infiltration of Wizderglubs in Wales…" He snorted. "And they say I have an active imagination…"

"You do." A hoarse voice came from the bed. "Disgusting, I've always thought."

George nearly fell over, and then looked down. Percy's eyes were open, and he was staring at George with a frown. And clearly he knew he was Percy Weasley, and who George was.

"Mum…Dad…everyone…" George dashed out to the hallway. "Perce's awake."

Within minutes a thundering heard of Weasley' were there; with even more coming via floo as soon as able. They crowded around Percy's bed; Percy just laid there, looking around, the frown never leaving his face.

"There you go, Perce!"

"Surviving Malfoy…that man will never learn to not take on a Weasley!"

"Eet is good to see you zo well. I am relieved…"

The burble continued, with Penny doing no more than holding Percy's hand, with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.

Percy looked around. "Mother…father…Who are all of these people? And why have they brought me here?" He finally asked, at the first moment of quiet.

That quiet became extensive, as Arthur came forward. "This is your family, Percy." Arthur soothed.

"I know my family." Percy's lips were pressed together tight. "Though what Charlie's doing back from Rumania…and what is up with Bill's face?" He looked around the room once more, and then pulled his hand away from Penny with a blush. "YOU…you said you didn't want to see me until I came to my senses."

"Percy?" Penny gulped.

Percy drew himself up on his bed, and scowled once more. "Who are all these women around me? And YOU, you loathsome troublemaker." He glared at George. "What the hell have you done to your EAR?"

Nobody could speak for some time. Michelle finally took the lead, dusting her hands off. "I am a trade medi-witch, Mr. Weasley." She said, coming forward to look in his eyes. "Can you tell me what year it is, please?"

"Is this a JOKE? Bloody hell, George, are you and Fred behind this?" Percy glared once more at his younger brother.

George just drew his breath in hard.

"You had an injury at work." Michelle continued, though she felt queasy, and she took his pulse. "Again, I must ask you, what year is this?"

"It's 1996." Penny held her hand over her mouth, and Molly let out a sob in to Arthur's arms. "And why they brought me here, to my blood traitor family, I'll never know. Now if you'll excuse me…Minister Fudge must be expecting me."

"You are under quarantine." Michelle said, thinking quickly, as Percy tried to rise. "Unless you want to expose Minister…er…Fudge to your malady. I don't think I would consider it a prudent career move, do you?"

"Oh, very well. Still, do I have to be here…" He spoke lower, almost confidentially to Michelle. "With these failures?"

Michelle bristled, but reminded herself that this was not the Percy she'd come to know. "I'm afraid so."

She motioned everyone out of the room, and turned to go into a quick conference with Fleur.

George hung to the back, and was the last to leave; Penny was sobbing in to Charlie's arms. He looked over his brother imploringly. "Can you remember anything of the past few days, Perce?"

"I know you lot sent me another load of dung. Oh, don't look so innocent. I'm not an idiot. Not that you've ever thought otherwise."

George felt a sick, sinking feeling. "We never thought you an idiot, Percy." He insisted. And then, he tried once more. "Can you remember nothing of Fred, then?"

"I remember he's a complete dunce and the bane of my existence. Why isn't he here? Did whatever accident took your ear kill him?"

George winced. "And if I told you it did?" He asked, wanly.

"Good riddance."


	31. Ch 31 Unfogging the Past

In the living room at The Burrow, Angelina Morgainne had her ten month-old daughter Marleigh on the floor on a blanket. Beside her was Freddo, patiently stacking blocks for her, with both of them giggling as she gleefully knocked them down.

Neither Angelina nor Michelle were so blissfully unaware as their children.

"This is taking quite a lot out of George." Michelle said, stirring her coffee listlessly. "It's hurt him in ways I can even describe."

"I know." Angelina soothed. "Matthias will help, though. He's dealt with many cases of obliviation in Uganda. Too many." She gave a little shudder, remembering their covert work there. "But if anybody can help Percy…"

Michelle absentmindedly accepted a gift block from Freddo, who promptly returned his attention to his new friend. "It's just…I never really understood, I guess, what it did to the family during the time that Percy left them. I've only known the new Percy… sometimes slightly fussy, putting on an officious front when necessary…but the same one who would entertain the kids for hours with WoWo tricks."

"It tore Molly up." Angelina admitted. "George and I had just started dating in those days, and I remember coming by in the summer…Molly was always in tears. But you know, I think it really HURT Arthur. Percy looks the most like him out of the boys…he was following in his footsteps in the Ministry…losing Percy sucked the life out of him."

Sucked the life out of him. That pretty much described how the whole family was reacting now. George had gone back to work, and she and the kids would be returning to their home this evening. George said it was because he was getting behind on those contracts, but Michelle believed it just hurt him to much to be near Percy and hear those scathing retorts. And Percy still kept asking him where Fred was, something that was like rubbing salt in to the wound for the entire family.

There was a shadow in the doorway, and Matthias stood there. Marleigh gave a shriek of glee and held her arms out to him; he pulled out a bright smile and lifted her up, before looking between his wife and Michelle. He let some of his worries show then.

"I've studied him pretty extensively, and I think I know what the problem is." He shifted his daughter to one hip. "I just explained to Molly and Arthur, this does not appear to be the first time he's been obliviated."

"Oh, no. Not good." Michelle frowned.

"Indeed not. But what I believe happened is that this time, the spell more or less knocked him back to the first occurrence. That first one must have been done more carefully, very specifically knocking out one specific memory, that enabled Percy to seem essentially unharmed. This one was done in aggression, and in a hurry, and the shock blasted his mind back to the first spell."

"Can we help him?" Michelle asked. She knew that the more often a wizard was obliviated, the more likely there would be permanent damage.

"I think yes, BECAUSE this last one was conducted so carelessly, not to mention when his body was in an altered state. But we've got to get Percy past the initial trauma…and I believe a Muggle remedy might help."

A light came in to Michelle's eyes then. "Hypnosis!" She concluded.

"Exactly!" Matthias nodded once. "But the trouble is, the patient must be willing. Since Percy right now thinks there isn't a think wrong with him, except being surrounded by a family he claims not to like, it's going to be tough to get him to cooperate."

Angelina had gathered Marleigh's things, and Freddo had tottled over to Matthias, and was tugging on his robes.

"Marleigh back?" He asked hopefully.

Matthias gave a little laugh and scooped Freddo up, making him giggle. He tickled him lightly. "Yes, she will visit again, AND you will see her in the nursery at Hogwarts, you terrible Imp!"

Freddo protested. "Freddo goo boy!"

"Of course you are!" Matthias passed him over to Michelle, and Angelina came over to give her a squeeze.

"Tell George not to get his head up his arse again over this. It will be fixed, I am sure of it." She winked, as Freddo head butted Marleigh playfully.

"Thanks, Ang." Michelle gave the other witch, once a fierce rival, a tight hug. "At least that might get a chuckle from him."

She just hoped that Angelina was right, and this wasn't going to be an impossible task.

WWWWWWW

Alf had watched Matthias Morgainne leave Percy's room. It had been three days since his father's return from Romania, and Uncle Percy was still mired in a distant past. He hadn't recognized his own daughter, even; Perri had escaped his watchful eye determined to see her daddy, and had emerged wailing when her own father had asked who she was. So it had been decided that all of the children were off limits to Percy's room.

Especially Alf. As George had pointed out, he wasn't so much younger than Fred had been in 1996, and it was quite likely that Percy would confuse the two.

But Alf was always thinking, and Alf had a plan. One he had roped Aunt Penny in on. Which was why he was waiting just outside Percy's room, half hidden in shadows, and listening to his Uncle breathe.

Alf was fairly certain that the restorative potion Master Morgainne had given his Uncle would have contained a sedative. Percy frequently became agitated and was still suffering the after effects of prolonged polyjuice, so there was cause. And sure enough, after several minutes, Percy's breathing became regular and deep. With great resolution, Alf tiptoed into his room.

He took one look at his Uncle, who physically looked the same. Percy, however, had an expression on his face that Alf was simply not familiar with; a look of deep disapproval and sourness, like he'd bitten into an apple and it had tasted like a lemon. Alf sighed. Dad was devastated by this whole thing, he knew. Especially that Percy really didn't remember about Fred. And it had to stop.

Quietly Alf came around the bed, to the night stand that ought to be right in Percy's field of vision when he woke up. And very gently he laid his object on the stand. It was a bright green WoWo…Percy's WoWo, the one George had made for him when Alf first came to live with the family. Alf remembered helping George as much as he could to complete it, though that had been in the days before he had magic. And he remembered the great joy Percy had in the object, and knew it represented something special between the two brothers.

Alf turned to go out of the room, taking back one last look. If anything, anything at all could get Uncle Percy back, he hoped this would be it. Love had to be more powerful than evil in the end, didn't it?

"Alf? We have to go, kiddo…I want to floo while the twins are still sleeping." Michelle called from the downstairs.

"Coming." And with his fingers mentally crossed, Alf scurried away, to return back to Godric's Hollow.

WWWWWWW

Percy Weasley opened his eyes and stared towards the bedroom window, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight. It was warm, but pleasantly so, and if he could forget for a minute or two his negligence in doing his duty, he might have enjoyed it.

Something wasn't right, and he knew it. Knew there had to be a reason his entire family…and a whole assortment of strangers who'd attached themselves to the family…were forcing him to stay here. Something deep in his subconscious was nagging at him that something was going on. Only it was just there, just under the surface, and he couldn't quite get to it.

He didn't hate his family…he knew that. He also knew he was supposed to keep away from them, that they would damage his career. If you asked him why, well, he couldn't quite place his finger on that, either. Just that if asked, he'd say his father was a delusional nobody who'd never get ahead, and his mother was a simpering housewife with more kids than she could handle. Though the more he thought about it, the more he disagreed with his own opinions. Which was why he didn't think about it much, if he could help it.

What he couldn't help but notice was how quickly his family had aged. Funny, that. He hadn't moved out for so very long, had he? And yet everyone had changed so much. And George with that ear…and where the devil was Fred? He shouldn't like George and Fred, he knew, but there was a niggling worry just the same. They were his little brothers. He should protect them. But then, they had never listened to him anyway.

Suddenly he blinked. But surely…surely…that was a YoYo? He hadn't seen one of those since he was a kid and…and Bill had gotten him into trouble over one. Well, not exactly; Bill had threatened to and then taken it away from him. But he'd been good at it, he remembered that. Bill had made fun of him for being good at a muggle toy, but Fred and George had liked it too. THAT he remembered…the little twins being mesmerized by the tricks he could do.

Funny. He remembered George climbing out of his playpen to cheer him up when Bill had made him cry. Strange thing to remember now. He was pretty damned sure George didn't remember it anyway.

Percy sat up and stretched out, reaching for the bright green toy. It felt in his hand just like he remembered, so vividly it was as if he had used it more recently than fourteen or so years ago. And with a smile, he tried running it up and down its string.

A burst of sparkles filled the room, along with a bright rendition of the 1812 overture, and Percy gasped.

Why, this was brilliant, and surely no muggle toy! He grinned, and then looked around to make sure nobody could see him. Percival Weasley, special assistant to Minister Fudge, couldn't be caught playing with any toy. Still, it was an amazing bit of work…he turned it over in his hand and saw an inscription on the back:

_To my brother Percy…remember to laugh. George._

George. George had given this to him? Really?

And with crystal clarity he knew that George hadn't just given it to him, George must have made it. It was exactly the sort of brilliance…nonsense…that Fred and George excelled at.

But why only from George? Was Fred still mad at him? Where the devil was Fred?

Feeling restless, Percy got up quickly. He needed to walk. He took the toy up with him, and slipped out the window, something he had been able to do since he was a child, shimmying down the old maple tree. Funny, it seemed to have grown quite a bit since he'd left home.

He meandered across the lawns, frowning at a group of strange children playing out where his brothers used to practice Quidditch, and he headed instead up the knoll on the far reaches of the property. A private spot that, under an old tree, and he should be able to maybe suss out all this confusing stuff while he was up there.

Like Penelope Clearwater. Why was she back hanging about him? He'd loved Penny right enough, but she'd dumped him after his fight with his family; really, she'd called him quite unmentionable things. Didn't she understand that all Percy wanted was to be a good provider for her, something that he felt was somewhat remiss in his own childhood.

_Bloody Git, we never wanted for anything and you know it, Perce. You do know it, you know; you've only just forgotten!_

"Fred?" Percy jumped a little, and looked around. He'd been quite certain that he'd heard his brother's voice just at that second. Frowning hard, he gave his head a shake; the medicines that healer gave him were really playing tricks on him. Pity he weren't better at potions and couldn't tell what they were. Hm, maybe he should have the twins look at them…despite portraying themselves as righteous goof-offs, they had decent brains at things like this. If only they would work towards something worthwhile!

_Like the thickness of cauldron bottoms? Is that really more important than a good laugh, Perce? Why I happen to know that you have a sense of humor yourself under all that pomposity. In fact, I know it better than anybody._

"Bloody hell!" Percy muttered, smacking himself on the side of his head. No, this wasn't medicine…this WAS Fred, somehow, playing another joke on him, making Percy look a fool. Well, alright, mostly Fred and George were funny, right enough…but couldn't they see that was not the time for stupid pranks? It was a dangerous world they were living in.

He huffed out loud, as he came to the top of the hill, and dusting his robes off, he went to sit against some new stone tablet that was there…bollocks, what was this? A grave? What, had Aunt Muriel died and nobody told him? Wasn't that just like his family! Although, come to think of it, he'd be rather surprised that they'd burry her at The Burrow. She hadn't much cared for the place, and his family didn't much care for her.

He bent forward more closely to the stone, and read the inscription.

_Frederick Weasley, 1978 – 1998. Son, Brother, Twin, Prankster. _And an inscription that seemed not so old. _Father. _Father??

Percy felt for a moment like he'd been sucker punched. And he just stared at the first two words on the headstone. Because they were impossible. His little brother? Dead? Clearly not. He'd just heard him, hadn't he? No, no…this was a trick, a stupid twins-trick, to try to force Percy to let that Morgainne chap at him with all his experimental nonsense. Well it wasn't funny; death never was, and it was a cheep ploy even for the twins. That wasn't how their jokes usually worked.

In fact, he bet this time Mum was behind it. Or Bill; Bill would probably not realize how cruel it was. "Hey, let's have Fred lie low, and after a few days we'll show Percy a fake grave…THAT will teach him; he'll let us do anything after that."

Yes, he could see Bill doing that…but had a hard time picturing Fred and George going along. The two of them were usually pretty stubborn about things that they considered right and wrong…though Percy wouldn't agree with them on exactly what those things were, he knew that they had their own sort of ethics. And Percy was really quite fond of the twins, underneath all his disapproval…

…_Something seemed to almost choke on him then, some long forgotten torment, that told him he wasn't supposed to think nice things about his family…_

Percy gave his head a shake again. Why shouldn't he think nice things about his family sometimes? Besides, Fred and George were alright, really. They were his brothers, and he would gladly lay down his life for them.

The YoYo in his hand seemed heavy, suddenly, and he sunk down to his knees, still reading that inscription. Skipping this time to the next line. 1998. What the hell was that about? It was 1996…springtime. And Dolores Umbridge was the headmaster at Hogwarts. And…and…

And she'd put through a request to the ministry, one of the ones Percy was supposed to just rubber stamp; this one had been to allow corporal punishment at the school again. Specifically, horse whipping. Yes, he remembered that; remembered the feel of the parchment in his hand as he'd picked it up. And he remembered the note on top of it…that he should be happy to finally see his twin brothers getting what they deserved, because she was certain that it would be just a little time before they had a major transgression. She said she'd checked their records…appalling, really…and was certain that a thousand strokes each would be an appropriate number…

Percy remembered his throat closing at that. A thousand strokes? His little brothers? For what, a few harmless pranks that never actually hurt anybody? No, no way he was signing that authorization, not even with Fudge's magical stamp. Knowing it was really Fudge's approval wouldn't make him forgive himself for being party to the act. Yes, he was quite proud of himself; he'd refused to sign that request.

Hadn't he? But why could he picture his hand on the quill…the permission for torture and perhaps death being granted. He could _feel _it, just as he could feel Dolores Umbridge's toad-like breath (Whoa, toad like? But he _liked_ her. Didn't he?) on his neck; she'd floo-ed over at his terse refusal to 'reason' with him. And somehow, in their conversation…things stopped. Something stopped. There was this wall that blanked things out, kept them away from the rest of his brain…and then he signed the papers.

_He'd signed the papers!_

Percy rocked back and forth on his heels, breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating. He'd signed them…he'd given permission for his little brothers to be tortured. What the hell kind of person was he? Hell, he found it repulsive even if it weren't his brothers in question, but it WAS and that made it worse.

Was _that_ what happened to George's ear? Had Filch, in the midst of exacting his torture and revenge, gotten careless and flicked it off? Was that what had killed Fred?

Percy gulped, looking again fearfully at the headstone. No, 1998. And it was 1996…right? RIGHT? And even if it weren't…even if this illness had somehow rendered him unconscious for the past two years, if Fred died in 1998, that would mean that it wasn't the whip that killed him.

With a gulp of air, a terrified Percy began to realize that he was actively considering, accepting, even, that Fred WAS dead.

Images flooded him suddenly, rapidly shifting from one to another like a bogart in a crowd. The ministry…a man who wasn't Fudge…feeling afraid, feeling alone; finding his family, finally, at Hogwarts, and knowing a great battle was going on. The feel of Fred's hand in his. Fred's smile. The warmth of his eyes. Surely Fred would not have looked at him like that if Percy had been responsible for the torture Umbridge put forth?

Strange images bombarded him from all over then…from years later, years recent, and years past…all out of order. He got married. George tried to kill himself. Bill had a baby. Harry married Ginny. George's store became wildly successful. Ron worried about George. He had a baby. George gave him the YoYo…no, it was a WoWo. A young boy like a miniature Fred played with a boy that looked like Remus Lupin (sometimes). Mum wept over Fred's grave. Percy found a young boy who looked like Cedric Diggory, abused and tortured, and brought him to George. Ron married Hermione. He heard George laugh, and knew it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Voldemort. He was fighting Voldemort, and shocking everyone by being a damned skillfull fighter. He told a joke. He made Fred laugh.

Fred, falling, falling, falling…eyes unseeing and lips pale, a smile on his face. Fred, laughing with him for the last time.

"Noooooooooo…" Percy wailed. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The sound seemed to echo off of the trees and bounce around him, as he broke down in to sobs. He remembered just three days ago telling George "good riddance" when George had asked how he'd feel if Fred really were dead. But he didn't mean it, couldn't mean it, would never mean it. George knew that, right? Right?

"George? GEORGE!" He sobbed out, calling for his little brother. George would explain it to him; he would. Maybe he was wrong, maybe this was all some sort of implant, maybe none of it were true.

"GEORGE!" He wailed out into the expansive grounds. "PLEASE…I'M SORRY!"

Percy was aware of children around him, keeping their distance from him. Maybe they feared he'd kill them too. He saw a young man, maybe twelve years old, dare to come forward; he looked like Bill but had Fleur's silvery eyes. Fleur had been in the tournament; she was Bill's wife. And they had a child twelve years old? He was their child, right? What the hell had happened to him ,why couldn't he remember ANYTHING?

The young man had an impishness about him that reminded him of Fred, but now he was all seriousness. He looked over his shoulder at another young person. "Keep Perri away, for heaven's sake!" The boy said, and a young girl nodded and took a sobbing seven year old back down the hill. The boy looked to another youngster, a red-head with Harry Potter's cow-lick, and said tersely, "James, get Gran. Have her reach Uncle George at the store."

Percy tried to stop his sobs, but the memories and the torment kept flashing back at him, He was gulping, and the boy beside him held a hand on his shoulder. A wry grin flashed over his face, and for a second it was like Fred was there. "Are you…are you…are YOU Fred's son?" Percy stammered out.

The smiling, freckled face shook his head. "No, I'm Bill's son. Alf is Fred's son…and George's, sort of…he's just gone with his family back to Godric's Hollow." The boy took a deep breath. "I was named after Uncle Fred, though. Mum says I have his high spirits."

"Ricky." The name came to him from nowhere, and Percy turned desperate eyes on the child. "Ricky. Is Fred dead? Is he?"

The boy paused, clearly uncertain what he ought to do, looking out of his element. But that was enough to tell Percy the truth of it. Somehow, they'd lost Fred. Somehow, he'd lost everything.

"Don't go berserk on me, Uncle Perce." The boy begged. "Please? It's my fault I told you, I shouldn't have told you, and they'll be mad at me."

"I won't go berserk." He promised, having no problem seeing his family misunderstanding the situation, when after all the kid hadn't actually told him anything. "Wasn't fair of me to ask you the question."

"Percy?" A voice, worried and scared, came to him from the bottom of the hill. George's voice. Ricky turned with a smile, relieved. Percy looked to George, growing larger as he sprinted forward. He was in work robes, and smelled lightly of gun-powder, and, strangely, cinnamon. Percy's lower lip wobbled again, and his face crumpled as his brother came forward, getting down on one knee.

"Oh, George, I'm so sorry…"

And he broke down once more.

WWWWWWW

George, some eight hours later, was on the porch at The Burrow, sitting on a bench deep in thought. He'd gotten hold of Michelle, and explained to her what happened. She had offered to come back, but the boys would be heading back to school in a few days and they needed to get ready. Besides…this was all pretty much between him and Percy, and there wasn't much she could do to help.

"You alright, George?" His father came beside him, sitting down to his left.

"Not really, Dad." George admitted. "I've been reliving a lot of stuff I'd rather not have. Not just Fred's death, but that whole period of time when Percy and I had to work out his guilt and my anger."

"Brutal." Arthur consoled, squeezing George's shoulder. "Morgainne tells us they've pin-pointed his first obliviation, though?"

George gave half a laugh. "He was more upset about that than Fred, almost. Maybe because it seems like yesterday to him right now. He kept asking me to forgive him, asking if that was how my ear had happened, asking how I'd survived."

"Survived what?" Arthur blinked questioningly to him.

George shot his father smirk. "Filch horse-whipping Fred and I nearly to death. APPARENTLY Umbridge had sent the permission papers to the ministry, and Percy had refused to sign them. She objected, they seem to have had some kind of an argument, and she imperioused him into signing and then obliviated him."

"Filch…what? George, when did this happen? And why didn't you ever tell me?" Arthur was nearly shaking. "I'll find that miserable little squib and kill him myself…"

"DAD!" George gave his father a little shake "It never did happen. That's when Fred and I broke out of the school."

Arthur looked at him in surprise. "You told us that you were fed up with supporting Umbridge and her idiocy, not that you feared for your lives."

"We didn't fear for our lives…although in hindsight we probably should have; she was quite serious. But we enacted that whole stunt with the full plan of quitting school at the end." George just shook his head. "I can't convince Percy of that, though…I guess when that memory hit him first he went right back to how he felt then, the sick feeling of being unable to protect us. I offered to remove my shirt and show him I haven't a single scar, not from that, anyway, and he just snorted that I'd probably had a glamour done to make him feel better."

"What about everything else?" Arthur asked.

"Things are coming back at him in bits and pieces. Matthias says its better than he expected, but he doesn't want Percy being left alone. Well, like there's a chance of that happening in this family." George smiled and rubbed at his chin. "The bottom line is, I think that moment must have marked a change in Perce that started him fighting within himself to come back to the family. But he's kind of stuck in that moment, and so the other memories aren't quite real to him yet."

"Will you stay?" Arthur asked, putting his hand on George's arm and squeezing. "I know you've been working hard."

"Of course I will. Michelle and the kids are okay right now…I'll have to go see the boys off to school. But as for work, I'd rather lose that contract than lose Percy." George crossed his arms and gave his father a very determined stare. "I've never put work before family, and I'm not starting now."


	32. Ch 32 Steps on a Path

From the Diary of CJ Diggory:

We leave for school tomorrow. If I said that it had been an eventful summer, the level of understatement in that sentence would be a world record.

I've gotten quite used to the perpetual presence of the hourglass over my head. Sometimes I feel like I can sense each individual grain of my life sliding away from me. But those moments have gotten pretty far between, honestly. Now that I can't do anything to change my fate, it's left me free to observe.

What I've observed over these past few days in particular, with the whole Uncle Percy debacle, is that he and George are a hell of a lot closer than anyone ever realized. I'd always thought George was closest to Uncle Ron, and in some ways he is…but something about the way Fred died bound George and Percy in a way that can't quite be described. Anyway, neither Alf or I begrudged that George hasn't been able to be around like normal as we get ready for school; Uncle Percy's memory is coming back not like a book, in neat chapters, but like tiny explosions, an incident here, another there, and all out of order.

Alf and I talked it over that first night we got home, right before finding out that Percy'd had his epiphany. Alf spent some time ruminating over how we would always be there for each other, and for Freddo, in the event we ever needed anything. I went along with it. Not that it isn't true…I'd do anything for Alf. But of course, I won't be able to.

I wonder, sometimes, if Fred had known his end was coming near, if there were things he'd do differently? Like Alf's Mum, for one…would he have handled that better? Maybe, maybe not. I guess in a way my knowledge is a gift. In a very wry, desperate, every-cloud-must-have-its-silver-lining way.

Anyway, in the manner of pseudo-brother doing anything for each other, I purposely nudged Alf out of the house to walk Freddo by himself the day after we got back, so he could have some time alone with his _girlfriend_ (cough, cough). Bianca and he, since we got back from camping, have become so tight that I'm not sure you could squeeze a sheet of parchment between them. Ahem. Anyway, somehow it seems to have backfired. He came back rather sulky, didn't seem to want to talk about her at all, and spent the next few days resolutely playing with Freddo in the back yard…no walks for him. I finally got out of him this morning that they had broken it off.

She must have been mad that Alf went to a birthday party and didn't make it back for a week. Well, with Dad absent, then injured, and Uncle Percy only half way present mentally, he hadn't exactly been thinking about writing her, and it wasn't like we could send an owl.

But there's other weirdness happening, that I am able to notice more freely now. Like, for instance, that there's a funny sort of edge in Miss Shell's voice when she talks to Alf. Not bad, mind; not like my Dad. Almost sort of formal. And that's really weird, because they've always been so close.

And then Alf, Mr. Responsibility who must care for his cousins and siblings and be the perfect child, is very quietly miserable. I can notice it, and I bet George could to, only he isn't really here. Somehow Miss Shell seems preoccupied, though. Bloody awkward the whole thing is, anyway.

So, in the vein of being the good brother, while I still can, am going to see if I can make any sense out of this. I want all the last minutes with my true family to be good ones, not marred by this silly melodrama.

WWWWWWW

Alf sighed. He wished he hadn't told CJ, sometimes, about him breaking it off with Bianca. Although what the alternative would have been, he didn't know. What, was he supposed to be sending himself phony letters in the mail from his imaginary muggle girlfriend? No, telling CJ something was necessary.

But he rather wished, as it turned out, that he'd told CJ the truth, instead of the lie. Then CJ would understand why he was so damned unhappy.

It was very simple, really. When CJ finally prodded him about his mood when he returned from the park, Alf had blurted out that it was over. Which was true. CJ had guessed that Bianca was upset about their unexpected absence, and Alf hadn't denied it. That, however, was NOT true. It was just conveniently less embarrassing than the actual truth was.

What had actually happened was much more mortifying. Alf had walked in to the park, over to the muggle side, and spotted Bianca pretty literally sucking face with some gargantuan hunk of a kid. Kid, hell, _man_; ruddy bastard was seventeen if he was a day. He was tall, he was well built, he had perfect blond hair and perfect straight teeth, not a freckle in sight, and a deep laugh. Alf had just stood there like an idiot with his mouth open.

Then this guy saw him, and said something to Bianca, asking her if she knew that _kid_ who was gaping at them. Bianca had blushed for a minute, and then narrowing her eyes had tossed her hair and said _The little boy probably never saw anybody kissing before._

The bloody hell he hadn't…a week ago that had been him!

And then this guy decided to make it a real show, and kissed Bianca in a way Alf had certainly never dared. So, flushed with humiliation, and feeling like everyone in the park was watching him, Alf had just turned around and walked away.

He'd made it back to the swings, and absently put Freddo in one; his little brother was unusually quiet and undemanding. After ten minutes of going through the motions, Alf had buckled Freddo back in the stroller, and headed for home, passing right past Bianca and her new boyfriend one last time, just to augment the humiliation. The big brute of a guy had stuck out his foot, tripping Alf; Alf was on his feet in two seconds, thinking about his wand. The lug had no idea what sort of danger he was flirting with, clearly.

But Alf never did a thing. He'd dusted off his scraped knee, shot Bianca (who at least looked embarrassed by the attack) a look he hoped was suitably reproachful (it seemed the high handed sort of response) and kept on his way. After a few minutes passing through a more remote area heading back towards their own home, Freddo spoke.

"Freddo goo boy." He said, thoughtfully.

Alf brushed a stray tear off of his face and gave himself a shake. "Of course you are."

"Freddo very goo." He turned to look up into Alf. "No bat bogey bad boy."

It took Alf a second to connect the dots, and then he laughed. Freddo had decided that the height of good behavior was that he had refrained from tossing a hex at Bianca's new guy. "That's right, Freddo. We don't throw hexes at muggles, not even nasty hulking trolls that probably can't spell their own name right."

"Troll." Freddo tried out the new word and decided he liked it. "Bad people troll. Bianca troll."

"A good looking one, but yes…she's a troll." Alf blushed a little and rubbed Freddo's hair. "This is our secret, Freddo."

"Secret." Freddo nodded as if he understood. Didn't matter, anyway…when Freddo got to the height of his gibberish, only the cat and dog could understand him.

So they'd headed home. Alf was off; and Freddo gurgled away to Roo and Hagrid about trolls and bad people, and Miss Shell had just laughed at his nonsense. And after a few days of brooding, CJ had tackled him and he lied.

He wished, again, that he hadn't. CJ would have understood, and then at least he wouldn't feel as bloody stupid as he did. Well, after all, when he looked in the mirror, what he saw was a gangly, clumsy, awkward scarecrow of a fifteen year old. He wondered if his Dad had ever felt this stupid, and wished he could really talk to him, only that wasn't happening.. And pretty petty, really; right now Uncle Percy needed his dad much more than he did.

And Miss Shell had been weird with him in some way he couldn't figure out, ever since Dad had come back from Croatia. That bugged him. He didn't think he'd done anything wrong, and she didn't actually seem mad at him. Just a little off. And right at a time where he was thinking she might be able to help him with this one.

Then again…he was mortified enough. Maybe he didn't want her knowing anyway.

WWWWWWW

"Miss Shell?" CJ came up next to her in the twins' room, watching as the girls settled in to sleep. "Are you okay?"

She gave him her usual bright smile, and reached over to rough up his hair. "You mean after nearly losing my husband? To say nothing of the drama we've lived through on top of that. But yes, I am fine, CJ. Just a bit tired. Why?"

CJ began helping her clean up the changing area. "You seem a little distant. Especially with Alf." He prompted.

"Oh." Michelle faltered slightly, dropping the bottle of powder. With a sigh, she flicked the mess in a straight shot to the waste basket. "I had hoped to be hiding it a little better than that. Stupid me."

"Did he do something wrong?" CJ asked tentatively.

Michelle balked. "Wha? Lord no, CJ. I'm not mad at him…he doesn't think I'm mad at him, does he?"

"He's got other issues right now, and hasn't said much to me about this. But if I noticed…" CJ left the rest of the sentence unfinished, and shrugged.

Michelle headed over to the bay window George had just finished, and patted the seat beside her. They sat together for a few moments, with Michelle clearly gathering her thoughts. "You know I love you boys, CJ. I may not come out and say it as such. I've been a teacher for a long time, and I know boys pretty well; teens don't much care to have a mother hanging over them with a lot of gushing. I've tried to _demonstrate_ it as much as I can."

CJ was blushing pretty thoroughly, unconsciously corroborating Michelle's sentiment. "I know you care about us." He said, somewhat awkwardly. "I mean, as strange and cobbled together as we are, we're a family."

"Right." Michelle reached over to squeeze CJ's arm and carried on. "But the other day, when George was hurt, Alf came charging up the stairs to get me." She turned her eyes back on CJ, but in her eyes was something resembling confusion. "He called me Mum."

"Huh?" CJ blinked, and though it over; he hadn't heard what Alf had said; just knew that he went charging up the stairs for Michelle as CJ had held the robes in place in an attempt to keep George from bleeding to death. He'd had no idea what Alf had said to get her down stairs. "And that bothered you?" He guessed.

"No. It _shocked_ me. It still does." She wiped at her forehead. "If you'd done it, CJ, I don't think it would have fazed me at all. You never knew your mother. For Alf…I've always been very conscious of not wanting to replace Katie for him. Going back to before we even knew you, when I thought George was mourning her and feared that Alf might resent me for taking her place. I never asked him to call me Mum, for exactly that reason. And when he said that the other day…" She shrugged. "I've been afraid he's beating himself up over it, feeling like he betrayed his mother, and that's why he's been moping about. And for the life of me, I don't know how to approach this."

CJ felt relief and a little shock at the same time. He understood this better than she realized. "You know, I've called Uncle George Dad sometimes. Usually just to Alf, and when nobody can hear me." He paused, seeing she was watching him closely. "I know he doesn't mind, but I feel awkward about it, because my so called real father is such a shite. The word Dad isn't a happy word for me." CJ looked down at his hands. "It slips out when I am at my most natural, if you will, when I'm going on instinct instead of over thinking things. I bet Alf doesn't even realize he said it; he was terrified; George was hurt, and he needed you." CJ looked back up. "He thinks of you as a mother. He may not say it all the time, because of Katie. But it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it."

Michelle managed a smile. "So if he doesn't even realize he did it, why has he been acting so strange?"

Wincing, CJ considered what to say. He rather doubted that Alf would appreciate him sharing the details of his love life. "If I tell you it has nothing to do with you, that won't be good enough, will it?" She just raised an eyebrow. "Okay, if I say it has something to do with girl troubles, would that suffice?" He threw out there. "Only please, please don't tell him I said that!" He hurriedly added on.

Realization came to Michelle, and she sighed. "I should have known. He hasn't gone to the park for three days." She looked over to the crib, and with a wave of her wand started up the mobile of brightly colored butterflies. "Thanks, CJ." She added, getting up, and walking out beside him. "We are a family, the seven of us. A pretty damned good one, in fact. And I'm glad of that." She braved flustering him and reached over to kiss him on the cheek.

CJ blushed once more, but looked at Michelle with complete earnestness. "You'll never understand what this family means to me, you know. How glad _**I**_ am for…for… everything."

Before Michelle could question him further, he gave her a nudge; through a partially open door she could see a listless Alf packing his trunk, and she knew she had to set things right between them.

WWWWWWW

"Check mate." George grinned wickedly at Percy.

"I definitely do NOT remember you being so good at this game." Percy, pale faced but recovering, glanced over at his brother. They watched for a second as George's chess pieces beat up Percy's, before George waved a quick spell over them to inactivate them once more. "Can I ask how you got to be this good?"

It was a funny situation. Matthias wanted Percy to remember as much as he could without prompting. So George was under strict instructions to answer questions about Percy's memories…what was true, what was not…but couldn't, say, tell Percy about the time Percy stormed the maternity ward out for blood over how Michelle was being treated.

"I think I can answer that; you probably never knew how." George said, truthfully. "After I re-opened the shop and Ron came to work with me...or watch over me, depending on your perspective…he spent all of my free time preventing me from turning in to a miserable, pathetic slob. We played a lot of chess in those days."

"And Ron is _very_ good." Percy looked pleased with himself. "That I do remember." He paused for a moment. "I guess I can't ask where I was during that time?"

George hesitated, wanting to answer desperately, but knowing that Percy being _told_ something wasn't nearly as effective as it coming to him naturally. "Where do you think you were during that time, Percy?" He tried as a response.

Percy glowered. "Being a complete recluse, working myself to pieces at the ministry?" He guessed. Then, slowly, his face changed, images coming back to him. "We had a fight." He paused for a moment. "You hit me."

"I did." George gave Percy an apologetic look. "Do you remember why?"

"I…" Percy let the memory play over his mind. "I got drunk. Penny had come to see me, and I tossed her out on her ear, saying she could do a hell of a lot better than the likes of me. You found me, on my third firewhiskey, at the Cauldron…"

"You always were a lightweight."

"…and you asked me what the hell I was doing with my life. And I said I could say the same thing to you. And you said…" Percy took a deep breath. "You said it had taken you a year to begin to believe that Fred would think you were a pathetic wanker for throwing it all in, and that I was supposed to be smarter than you."

"Right." George grinned. "You took exception to that."

Percy smiled. "I did. I said you were still a pathetic wanker, and asked why dumping Penny was worse than you dumping Angelina, and that's when you hit me!" Another memory came to him. "Bloody hell, George…Angelina dumped you, right?"

"Nobody knew that at the time. I sure as hell wasn't going to admit to it." George poured them both out butter beers. "So I forbid you to feel guilty about that at all."

Percy was deep in thought, adding this new piece of his life to the bits and pieces that floated up to him at strange times. "The next morning I found Penny and threw myself at her feet. Because you and I ended up sobbing on the floor of the Cauldron, each of us trying to top the other on what Fred would say about our pathetic lives, and you said Fred wouldn't want me to pass on a chance he'd never have."

"Right. Of all the bloody miserable memories for you to cough up, Perce, the thought of us as great girly sobbing fools in a bar would have been one I'd rather you not have dragged out." George grinned widely. "How is Penny?"

"We've spent an hour together every day. There are some things that just seem so normal to me, and sitting and talking with her is one of them." He blushed. "But the kids, George…I can only remember bits and pieces of my own kids lives. What kind of father am I?"

"A pretty damned good one, actually." George soothed. "Although I'm probably not supposed to tell you that, but screw the rules." George grinned wickedly. "Of course, you're not as good a father as I am, Perce, but then who is?"

Percy gave a short laugh at that…he could totally believe George was an excellent father, even without actually remembering it. Then another thought came to him. "Is Alf much like Fred?" He tentatively asked. He could picture Alf easily in his mind, but couldn't remember specifically interacting with him.

George considered the question, and decided is was more of a father to father one than something to augment Percy's memory. "Sometimes I see a lot of Fred in him, but not often; he's just himself…smart as Katie, inventive like Fred, as kind as Charlie at his best…as responsible as Bill…and as much of a worrier as you."

"Oh, and like that doesn't describe you too." Percy looked pleased, however. Then his face clouded over. "When I think what I nearly let Umbridge do to you, George…"

"Stop it, Perce." George became just a bit sharp. "It never happened, and you didn't LET her do anything. You were under the Imperious curse, and then obliviated." He grabbed Percy's forearm. "You were angry at us, back then; we were angry at you. Fred and I were able to get under your skin like nobody's business. But even then you wouldn't let somebody hurt us." He made Percy look at him, and held his gaze. "I think, Percy, that was the beginning for you. You may not have remembered what she did, but it was in your subconscious, that what was going on was wrong. And that's when you began to change your mind about a lot of things."

"It took me long enough." Percy paused. "I let Scrimgeour walk all over me. And I was a coward, never sure how to get away from the mess I'd let myself get in to."

"But you came back, when we needed you most." George reminded him. "Fred was glad for it. So was I. Percy, it all could have been so much worse."

Percy sat back, sighing. Something else slid into his Swiss-cheese memory, and he looked at George. "Kingsley wanted to send Harry, you know. This I do remember. He wanted to send Harry, and I went nuts. Hadn't Harry been through enough? This one was up to me." And suddenly a pained spasm came over his face, and Percy jumped up, pacing, then thumping his fist on the table. "Damn it!"

"Perce?" George asked, worried. He stood beside his brother, his hand on his shoulder.  
"Perce, have you remembered something new!"

"No." Percy shook his head in frustration. "I can't. I can remember so many bits and pieces of Croatia…but there's something there I can't get a hold of, and I have to…George, I have to!"

"Whoa." George soothed him. "Percy, Kingsley has others working over there now, and if it's that urgent I am sure that they will dig it up as well. I forbid you to torture yourself over this. You nearly died for this cause, and it's not your war."

"But it is." Percy's eyes were anxious. "I can't explain it, George, but remembering what went on is crucial."

"Then you will remember it. You keep remembering more each day, Perce. And before you know it, you'll be back at the ministry with a shiny medal on your chest and a whole lot of accolades. Take your time."

There was a peaceful couple of minutes, as Percy tried to digest what George was telling him, and while other things seem to be striking him. George was patient; he let Percy work things out in his own way. Back when he'd been dealing with Fred's death, the one thing he'd hated were people trying to think FOR him, instead of letting him work things out for himself.

"Sometimes, George, when we're just sitting here, I feel like it's completely normal… and then I get that feeling back that we're not even supposed to like each other. It doesn't last long, but it's still there." Percy admitted, looking earnestly at George.

"Perce…you've been obliviated twice, once by a cunning little snot of a witch who twisted your own fears and ambitions to suit her purposes. I think you need to cut yourself some slack." George pointed out, rising and stretching. "I'm turning in, Bro. You're doing just fine."

"I'm taking you away from your job." Percy added, following George towards the stairs.

George snorted. "As I said to Mum once, there's a certain advantage to being your own boss. "You want to come with me tomorrow to take the boys to the train?"

"Sorry, George…I have a date." Percy looked a little sheepish. "A tea party with my daughter. I hope I don't let her down."

"You won't. It will come back to you, Percy…and it will be okay." George said.

They parted for the evening; George feeling a certain relief, that although the going was slow, he was getting Percy back. Percy, feeling frustration mixed with surprising affection for his brother. But at that thought, Percy came up short at his bedroom door.

_George was in danger._

He knew it…another one of those things that he knew without remembering why. The same way he knew, even though there was no concrete memory yet, that George was a hell of a cook. But what was he supposed to do, tell his brother, "Look out, but I don't know for what?"

He'd have to watch out for George. There was a lot that was still muddled in his mind, but not this: he had been ready to lose his job to protect George (and Fred) from Umbridge in 1996; he was just as ready to lose his life, if necessary, to protect George today.

WWWWWWW

"Hey, Alf. Got a second?" Michelle asked, coming over to sit on his bed.

He smiled up at her, although it was clear he wasn't his usual cheerful self. In fact, he seemed to be forcing a façade of normalcy. How much was her, and how much was the "girl problems" CJ alluded to, she could only guess. "What's up?" He asked her, continuing to toss books into the carefully spelled trunk.

Michelle was never one to prevaricate, and she took a deep breath. "The other day when you came to get me when your Dad was hurt, do you remember what you said?"

Alf frowned in confusion, though he was still being careful. "I don't remember much clearly…just Dad's blood soaking my hand and knowing we needed you. Did I say something wrong?" He looked earnestly at her.

"Not _wrong_, Alf." She insisted. "Surprising. You called me Mom."

Alf blinked twice, and then flushed. "Did I? Really?" His face went even redder. "I…um, I mean, I know I'm not supposed to…"

"No, no, no!" She rubbed her head furiously…this was going badly. She reached over and pulled Alf down to sit on the bed beside her. "I'm completely fine with you calling me Mom, if that's what you want. But I never thought it was. I don't want you to think I'm trying to replace Katie, Alf."

Alf's color began returning to normal, although he looked a little sheepish. "Oh." Was all he could manage to say, as he sorted this out.

"…And since then, you've been acting strange, and I thought you might have felt bad about doing that." She finished quickly. "And right now I feel like we're both being idiots."

Alf immediately turned around and hugged his step-mother, glad to know she wasn't in fact mad at him over something. "We are." He admitted. "At least, I am. I didn't even realize what I'd said but I guess, with Dad's life in danger…" He paused for a second, searching for the right words. "Something deep inside of me went to the truth, I guess. You are my mother, now…and I don't think Mum would mind that, either."

"So…what is bothering you then, Alf? Still worried about your Dad, then?" She feigned ignorance of what CJ had told her.

"Um…I just kind of broke up with Bianca, is all." He felt strange lying, after just having admitted that he thought of Michelle as his mother, but the truth was far too embarrassing. "I mean, we're headed back to school, and things were just too weird."

"Ah. Still sucks, though." She rubbed his head. "And you probably would rather talk to your Dad about that, eh?"

A sudden longing for George hit him hard. He knew Dad needed to be with Uncle Percy, but at the moment he realized that only George could possibly understand how he felt like an awkward nerd near that great brute of a gorilla Bianca had chosen. At least, he remembered George feeling (stupidly, he'd thought) awkward around Michelle in their early days. Yes, he wanted George badly at the moment.

But then, he'd have to be mature about this. He was fifteen, not ten, and what Uncle Percy was going through must be hell.

"I'll be fine." He lied. "Really, it's no big deal…just a summer fling, right?" He forced a smile, and was relieved to be interrupted by Freddo calling out for Michelle. "Go on…better rescue the little guy before he wakes up the twins."

She gave him a normal smile, and headed out, and with a sigh Alf resumed tossing things into his trunk. At least he'd be back at school soon, and then all would be right with the world once more.


	33. Ch 33 Up a Steel Hill

Friday, December 6, 2013

George Weasley sat back in his exceedingly crowded little office with a slight smile on his face. Six months from his contract delivery date, and he officially had every little firework perfectly designed and, if he said so himself, brilliantly conceived. It would be a show to end all shows.

But the next sixth months was going to be an adventure. There was still production to be considered, and currently even the wizard-spaced storage at Diagon Alley was nearly bursting. Add to that a few other related ideas he'd jotted down for future business purposes, and some things he had in development, and he was feeling quite over-run.

Yep, as much as he teased his brother about the Taj Ma Ron warehouses being built on the moors, he was sure looking forward to their completion, and wished it were sooner.

Of course, there were other things going on with his world as well. Christmas, for one; always a busy time in the shop and it was keeping Ron hopping. And with Christmas came Freddo's birthday, his second; the little guy was running around like a miniature typhoon, chatting up a storm (and more coherently, thankfully!) and gleefully trying to get Katie and Mollie to laugh on a regular basis. The girls were more than happy to oblige him, having realized early that their laughter seemed to get them extended attention.

That, and their ability to cast a hex from twenty feet away already. Or, as his mother had said to him with a smirk, "Good luck to you, Dear."

An owl tapped at the dingy window that "overlooked" the back alleyway, and George opened it up, pleased to see it was a letter from Alf. Thankful for a reason to extend his break, he poured himself another cup of coffee and sat back to read it.

"_Greetings and Salutations!_

_Hope all is well with you back at work. I hear Uncle Percy has returned to the ministry this week, with most of his memory intact. I do hope that he's not going to be sent back to Croatia; I'm not sure anybody in the family could take that._

_I am up to my eyeballs in prep for my Owls. I really am thinking about that pilot program Aunt Hermione is working on with muggle/magic cross-education, and I would imagine I'll have to have top notch grades to get in to it...not that my grades are SO bad right now..." _George rolled his eyes dramatically; Alf had gotten one "E" in a sea of "O's" in his previous years of schooling. _"...and stop rolling your eyes at me..." _George grinned. _"We've also just defeated Hufflepuff at Quidditch, so it looks like a showdown with Slytherin is coming up. Anyway, I have been really, really busy, which I guess is a good thing, but BOY am I looking forward to Christmas vacation. Although I'll have a potions paper due at the end of it, and I need to be able to completely transfigure a tomato plant into a rose bush, and I have to have charmed a children's story book with illustrations for Flitwick, and...and...man, even Christmas vacation isn't going to be much of a break, is it?_

_Anyway, I know you've heard about the Yule Ball that professor McGonagall has reinstated. She decided there should be an annual dance, but the new rule is that it's fifth years only and older that can attend. Well, obviously you know this, as you've sent both me and CJ new dress robes. They're quite splendid, of course; really top notch. Especially as I've heard repeatedly from Uncle Ron the 'indignity' he had to endure in wearing robes that made him look, in his words, like your Great Aunt Tessie._

_But I'm afraid mine might be a bit of a waste, Dad; let me know if you want me to return them. I'm just way too swamped with work to be bothered, and honestly there isn't anyone I want to ask. Teddy is going. He asked a Taylor Conlogue, nice enough girl. They've become a bit of an item, in fact. Victoire doesn't seem fazed by it at all, I'm happy to see...she seems to have a bit of a crush on a kid in our own year, Matt Light. (Don't tell Uncle Bill...I don't want Matt getting hexed). Besides, she couldn't have gone to the ball anyway, being just third year. _

_Anyway, I better close now...I just wanted to take a few minutes while waiting for my serenity potion to turn the right shade of teal and it's almost there. Extra credit for Professor Malfoy...every bit helps, right?_

_Looking forward to seeing you at Christmas. Will bring the robes back to you to return them._

_Unless Uncle Ron could use a new set?_

_Kidding. Love Alf."_

"What's that you're studying, George? Not an addition to our contract in Croatia?" Ron asked, having just come in to see if George wanted anything from Fortescue's.

"No, nothing so complicated...and yet, confusing just the same. The most peculiar letter from Alf, if you must know." George huffed lightly, blowing his bangs momentarily off of his face. "That boy's going to have a complete nervous breakdown if he doesn't stop working himself to death."

"Like father like son." Ron pointed out wryly. Then, rubbing his finger around his collar, he cringed a bit. "Um, by the way, we've had a cost overrun on the warehouse."

"ANOTHER ONE?" George asked. As he suspected, the contractors had found new and unusual ways of torturing their employers. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten. "Just make it happen, Ron. I know we need the space...just please don't bankrupt us in the process. A warehouse with no store isn't of much use."

"Right." Ron looked relieved that George wasn't going crazier. "Lunch, then?"

"I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head..." He replied, shaking it out. "Alf letter is still bothering me, and I'm not sure why. I need to think of a good response that won't push him over the deep end."

WWWWWWW

Another Saturday in the Library for Alfred Weasley.

It had become a pattern. He was either at Quidditch practice, in the potions labs, or here. He told himself, and anyone who would listen, that he was devoted to achieving perfect OWLS.

Of course, at times like this, he could admit to himself that it was really a lot more complicated than that.

Things had changed this year. Really, after the summer he should have seen it coming. But returning to Hogwarts had brought it in to perspective, in a big way.

Of course, two years ago they'd gone through the drama with Teddy, and how he'd changed so drastically. There had been reasons behind that, none of them very pleasant, and unfortunate for his friend, but Teddy had survived and had come through a better person, back to his old self, even if he was still very tall and (this time naturally) good looking.

But he'd continued to grow in to those natural looks, and now he really was the God of Gryffindor Tower, only without the snide attitude. Good looking, charming and nice. Alf had known that for a while, of course, only he didn't realize that suddenly every female in their year, and several in the year ahead would realize it as well. Naturally, Teddy didn't let the attention change him at all; he'd learned that the hard way. But at some point he had singled out Taylor Conlogue, a house mate of Alf's, and they were now officially an item.

That had happened by the second week of school. He was glad Victoire wasn't bothered by it, but it was unsettling, in that it broke up their perfect little group. Teddy was a good guy, but a guy with a girl hanging on his arm wasn't the same bloke. And he was surprised, in that he had begun to think that Teddy was interested in Eileen.

By third week, he realized that Eileen, on the contrary, had other fish to fry. She of course had been the first of the group to have a boyfriend, last year, but that had been long distance. This time, she'd started hanging out a lot with Alex Crews, a sixth-year Gryffindor. Alex was a stand-up guy, and a fine Quidditch player, so he had no real quarrel with the choice. But it was another loss from the group dynamic. That, really, was the only thing that had bothered him. Really.

The final straw for Alf, though, was CJ.

CJ had changed. Not in any kind of a bad way. But for as long as Alf had known him, Ceej had always had this black could hanging over his head. It was huge and visible a mile away, metaphorically, when they first met; after years of living with George and becoming his brother, the cloud grew smaller and smaller each year. Alf was glad of that, and he thought that with any luck, and perhaps with Amos Diggory getting eaten by a dragon, CJ might be a completely happy person by the time they graduated.

Still, there had been _something_ hanging over him for the longest time. Some kind of curse (George had thought it had to do with St. Mungo's; Alf hadn't been sure) that they were helping him with. All sorts of books and ideas and theories had been tossed about among the friends, in an earnest attempt to help. And CJ, though he couldn't explain his plight for some reason, had been grateful.

However, the last night before they returned to Hogwarts, right after Alf had packed his trunk, he'd gone to hunt CJ out for a game of chess, and found his near-brother sitting out back, holding his pigmy puff in one hand, and smiling to the night in complete peace. Alf had never, ever seen CJ looks so sanguine. He'd asked about it, and CJ simply told him that it was over...that the curse he never could explain had been broken. As he said, "It simply isn't an issue anymore, Alf. I've taken care of it, and it's over."

He'd been overjoyed, and the explanation, passed on to Eileen and Teddy the next day, was greeted with relief. They all believed it; CJ could never have hidden it if he were still trying to break it on his own. It really was over. And he was happy about that; really, he was.

Except for the unseen consequences. CJ had always been a good looking guy, but that was hard to get to past the perpetual glower of his first year. And in later years he always remained cautious and calculating, if not quite the mass of roiling anger he used to be. Now, at complete peace with himself, happy and laughing, more and more of the CJ that Alf knew was visible to everyone.

And didn't every girl suddenly seem aware of it!

He didn't want to be petty...he really didn't. He couldn't begrudge CJ any happiness, not after the kid's own birth father had tried to kill him. And it wasn't like CJ had become some arrogant jerk. He was simply happy. And he laughed a lot. He even told an occasional joke.

But the final straw had been laid. CJ had asked Mikaela Carroll, a Slytherin in their year, to the Yule Ball. And they had spent the past week holding hands and whispering to each other over potions, giggling through charms, even kissing each other after Quidditch practice (Miki was their seeker). And it had set Alf completely off the deep end; they'd had a terrible fight last night, and he didn't even want to remember what he'd said. He felt like a heel.

But CJ had said he liked Liv! That was just this past summer! Granted, Liv was too young to go to the ball, but still, if he really liked her, he'd wait, right? Not pass the time sucking face with Miki Carroll!

How in the hell had his life gotten so bloody screwed up in one summer? And why had all of his friends changed so much, while he was still a scrawny, barely five-six, over-freckled and acne-battling kid?

He tucked his head down on the book, and stared out the window. There were the six of them...Teddy and Taylor, Eileen and Matt, and CJ and Miki, laughing together on the pathway to Hogsmeade. He'd been invited along, of course, by Eileen, but there was no way he was going as the group mascot, which is what he felt like. Besides, after that fight with CJ...ugh. He just couldn't. So he'd said he needed to study...his perpetual claim nowadays...and so here he was.

And boy, did it suck!

WWWWWWW

George still hadn't answered Alf's letter by the following day. He'd shown it to Michelle, who had looked wise and pointed out how much Teddy and CJ had grown up, and suggested that Alf was feeling a bit left behind. Well, if that wasn't a load of nonsense! Alf had that little fling with Bianca over the summer, so clearly he was comfortable with girls and dating...hell, that had really been before Teddy and CJ had ever had a date. Maybe he was regretting breaking it off with her, but obviously he couldn't have invited her to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts. Besides, Alf was smart, charming, and funny...what could be better?

No, George was worried about the poor kid working himself to death. Somehow, it seemed his son had become obsessed with his achievements. Well, he'd seen how that had worked for Percy (not at all) and he was not comfortable watching his son turn himself into a ball of neurosis.

However, before he could respond, he had a mission of sorts: Christmas shopping. Muggle Christmas shopping. Michelle, while feeding the twins, had been waxing nostalgic over her extensive music collection and current lack of way to listen to it, so George was intending full out to buy her one of the new music players folks were raving about, at least according to his buddy Jimmy Castelli. He was quite sure that once he found one, he could find a way to make it work in his magical household.

"Otherwise..." He told Freddo, along for the ride. "There isn't much point in being a wizard, is there Freddo?"

"Freddo good boy." He said wisely. "No wizard near muggles."

George laughed, pushing the stroller towards the large electronics store. How his son had gotten so smart so quickly, he could only assume had to do with Michelle. And the influence of his older brothers, of course.

Once inside he had to fight hard to curb his own enthusiasm for the variety of gadgets displayed for him. Though he'd been glad enough to return from America, his time there had given him an appreciation for muggle ingenuity only matched by his father's. He picked out the media player he wanted, and then spent a good half hour meandering through a selection of movies, looking for things that he remembered from his past.

"TROLL!" Freddo said, proudly.

George looked down...there was a display for an anniversary collection of Lord of the Rings right by the stroller. "I think that's a dwarf, actually, Freddo." George informed his son. "Assuming you mean the short hairy creature."

"No Troll there." Freddo shook his head hard, and pointed to a sweep of hair disappearing around an aisle. "TROLL. Pretty troll and big troll." He then chewed his lip. "Bad boy. Push Alf."

Huh?

George moved forward, and took a quick look to the side, and gaped when he saw that Bianca person hand in hand with a very tall, good looking male model type. He ducked quickly around the aisle, blushing; but he could still hear their conversation well enough. Argument, it actually was.

"Can't believe you lied to me, BeBe." The young man scoffed. "I have to hear from your stupid little brother that you dated that gawky looking red head kid? You acted like you didn't even know him in the park that day."

"I can't believe you care, Troy." The girl teased. "C'mon, he was just a fling...practice. It was a harmless bit of fun. I wouldn't even call it dating."

"Yeah, but your brother made it clear that he liked him better than me. What about you?"

"Troy..." She dragged his name out so it was several syllables long. "Are you serious? You're not dating my brother. And if I liked him better, I wouldn't be doing this with you..."

The sound of the long, sloppy kiss made George's stomach turn. Freddo didn't look amused either. "Boy push Alf." He repeated. "BeBe troll." He added.

"Quite so." George strode forward, turning the corner and purposely heading straight towards the obliviously lip-locked couple. "EXCUSE ME." He said loudly, purporting to need to get around them, really just desiring to throttle them both.

'Troy', of course, didn't have a clue who he was. Bianca, however, remembered him clearly, judging from the horrified look on her face. "Oh, hello...fancy meeting you here." George said, dryly. "I see you've replaced my son quite neatly."

"Oh, um, hi, Mr. Weasley." She mumbled. "This is, um, Troy. He's the captain of the Rugby team at school."

"Whatever." George gave her a look of pure disgust, and decided just to walk away before he broke the improper use of magic decree. He did turn around once. "You've no idea of the mistake you've made, of the chance you might have had. But you..." George looked at Troy. "Remember what she did to my son. Threw him aside like garbage when she had a better offer. Well, buddy, keep in mind...there's ALWAYS a better offer."

And turning away, he headed out of the store, suddenly understanding Alf and his choices more clearly than he ever wished he'd had to.

WWWWWWW

"Hey Alf."

Alf looked up from his miserable posture at the library table to see his cousin Ricky, now in his second year (Gryffindor all the way), hovering in the doorway. He forced a smile. "Hey Ricky. You alright?"

"Fine." Ricky sprawled on the chair opposite him. "What the heck are you doing in on such a perfect day?" He asked, his wide silver eyes staring in to him.

"Owls, Rick. I am inundated with work." Alf said, trying to make a show of going back to his studies.

"Right. Clearly the same problem is disturbing everyone else in your year...oh, wait...everyone else in your year took off for Hogsmeade!"

"Do you have a point?" Alf snapped, just a bit harshly.

Ricky was, as usual, nearly impossible to offend. "My point is, there's a fresh layer of snow, it's wonderful cold without being blood freezing, and a whole gaggle of friends of mine are out there who really could use a few lessons on how to properly spell snowballs." Ricky's voice became slightly cajoling. "And you're so good at that!"

"Like you aren't!" He retorted.

"Well, of course I am. It's in our blood...not my mother's, clearly, and lord knows my Dad probably never stooped to that level...but for my name sake and your father...fathers, accurately, we clearly have been passed a sacred gift. Disgraceful not to use the talents we were given, I say!"

Despite himself, Alf laughed. "You are far more of a miscreant than I ever could be, Frederick!" And he turned and looked out the window...sure enough, a group of second years were outside, listlessly kicking around snow. "I am still not quite sure why you need me, however."

"Because it would be more _fun_ with you, Alf, and you'd manage to prevent anyone from getting hurt and getting us actually in to trouble, whereas if I do this myself I'll find a way to bollocks it up!" Ricky tugged on his arm. "C'mon, Alf, let your inner Gryffindor out for a bit, eh? Your Ravenclaw side will still be there in the morning!"

"Oh, alright!" Alf gave in, matching Ricky's grin. "Let me get my jacket..."

Ricky immediately produced his jacket, along with his gloves and mittens. "I suggest you not ask how I got in to your common room." He winked.

Alf closed his eyes, and decided that, just for the moment, he didn't particularly care.

WWWWWWW

From the Diary of CJ Diggory

Well, I seem to be in the midst of a full blown fight with Alf. We've patched it up, but I'm still a little worried. There's so much that I just can't explain to him, and I know he doesn't really understand.

I have decided, as you know, to live this, my last year, with the purpose of loving every minute of my life. And it's amazing, really, the feeling of freedom that brought to me. I am actually happy now that things are resolved. I know that in the end I'll have a hard step to take, but until that moment I am savoring every bit of it.

Trouble is, before I knew I was doomed I let Alf get me to admit I had a crush on Liv. And that's causing more than a bit of bother now.

Point...I am, more or less, dying. Since I am, there is no way I am going to start up a relationship with a third year, let alone one who won't even bee fourteen until February, and specifically not with Alf's sister. Liv and I are friends; I would wish in a perfect world we could someday be more, but we can't and since we can't why should I hurt her more? She'll be sad when I am gone, but not with any sort of wondering-what-could-have-been hanging over her head. Besides, clearly my whole dream was bollocks...Alf is not dating Eileen, Teddy is not dating Victoire, and I have no future, not with Liv or otherwise.

But...and this is me being selfish...I really wanted to have a girlfriend, even if just for a few months. I wanted to know what it was like to kiss a girl, to hold her hand, to have her smile at me as something other than a friend. I suppose that's cruel, because I'm still just as dead to Mikki as I am to Liv. But Mikki...she's a nice girl, bit of an edge to her in a rather goth sort of way, but last year she dated somebody else, and ended it easily enough. She's enjoying spending time with me, and I think she likes me, but not in any important way. When I am gone, she'll shake it off and it will be like I never existed.

But Alf doesn't understand any of this, and I sure can't explain it to him. He went off on me last night about being fickle and even called me a liar. Worse, he said he hadn't thought I was the sort of guy to take what was 'cheap and easy' because I could. I responded back that just because he'd been stupid enough to dump a girl for being a muggle didn't mean I couldn't have a girlfriend myself.

Ouch. On both sides.

I was still pretty peeved this morning when we got ready to go to Hogsmeade...until Alf walked by headed for the library. Eileen seemed surprised he wasn't coming out with us, and asked him why, and he quite calmly said he wanted to study, before going on his way. Teddy didn't really notice; he was all over Taylor; Eileen just took Alf at face value, and for a moment I just assumed he was being stupid mad at me.

And then we headed in to Hogsmeade, sat down at Lavender Brown's café, and had her simper over us about young love. And I realized: Me and Mikki, Teddy and Taylor, Eileen and Matt. And Alf.

Ouch, again.

I pulled Teddy over later, and pointed _that_ out to him, and he got pretty sheepish looking as well. Stupid us...we've been spending so much time with our respective others that we didn't realize how little we'd been hanging with Alf. So we made a point of being at our table that evening, when Alf came in.

He looked loads better, by the way. Apparently Ricky came and snagged him and he organized a full blown enchanted snowball war with the second years. Headmistress McGonagall was all twinkling over it, too, having apparently joined in the fight. He leaned over to me quietly and just said, "Sorry" and I said, "Me too."

But the thing is, it's still there, isn't it? I'm still acting in a way he doesn't quite get, for reasons I can never tell him, until the day he can read this diary.

So Alf, someday, when I'm not here and you can see this...understand...I just wanted a chance to be normal for a bit. I know it can't last. And you are a brother to me, and I wouldn't have hurt you on purpose, not for anything. And someday, when you have a terrific wife and kids of your own...because you will, you know; you're too much like George not to; well, just picture me smacking you upside the head and saying I told you so.

WWWWWWW

_Dear Uncle George._

_It's me...Ricky. No, I haven't spelled anything on this parchment to explode or anything; hope you're not too disappointed._

_Anyway, I wanted to kind of give you a head's up on Alf; he hasn't been doing too well but I think I actually helped (imagine that). _

_I don't know what you've heard but he's been kind of moping around lately. All his buds have pretty much paired off and running around making complete arses of themselves, if you ask me (Victoire says I'll be speaking differently in a few years). I think he's been a bit lonely. Anyway, I dragged him out into a snowball fight with a whole group of second-years. Splendid, it was; you'd have thought so, I know! All four houses were there, and it was wild, with the spelled balls exploding (without hurting anyone) and doing little dances and stuff. Alf even made some of them turn all sorts of colors and play music, kind of like the WoWo's. He's absolutely brilliant, you know, like you only shorter! _

_And get this, the Headmistress came out (I admit I thought we were all done for then) and joined us! WICKED fun, that was...she's really something, isn't she! Said it was the most fun she'd had in the snow since...and then she got all quiet and looked at Alf and looked at me, and got misty, but then resumed the fight full force. So I'm guessing it had something to do with you and my namesake._

_Anyway, I've decided all girls are dumb...except my sister, but I have to say that. Or I take that back...all OLDER girls are dumb. Alf is like the coolest thing ever, and here everyone is all falling over Teddy and CJ. Alright, they're cool too, but nobody is as cool as Alf. And I bet there isn't a girl in my year who wouldn't follow him to the ends of the earth. I mean, what's not to like? He's ruddy brilliant, loads of fun, and really nice to everyone...and his father owns the world's coolest store.._

_Not to mention he has the family's classic good looks!_

_Oh, and just so you don't worry too much, I've got another idea up my sleeve that may cheer him up a bit. Not sure it will work, but I think it will. It will just take a little finagling and behind the scenes magic from yours truly, but you know what? I'm good at that. Can't imagine why._

_See you at Christmas! Can't wait for your pies!_

_Ricky_

George passed the letter over to Michelle. He'd just related what he'd seen in the store (while refusing to explain why he'd even been in a muggle store) and they'd both been pretty chagrinned by it. Michelle explained some of her conversation with Alf before he'd left for school, and they realized that he'd purposely kept quiet on what actually happened.

"Of course he did." George groaned. "He was probably mortified. I wish he'd told me!" Then, seeing the funny look on Michelle's face, he realized, "Oh, wait...I was with Percy during that time, wasn't I?" He sighed.

"Quite. And no guarantee he'd have told you, anyway; he's at an awkward stage, and he's comparing himself _now_, to _you_ now...not to you at fifteen. I'm assuming you and Fred went through similar days?"

"What, are you implying that I was anything other than my handsome self?" He mocked indignation, but reached over to kiss his wife. "Who am I kidding, up until the day you actually said 'I do' I was afraid you'd come to your senses and realize you could do better. Alf thought I was nuts, I know, so I guess I assumed his self esteem was more stable than mine."

"It probably was..." She paused, and they said together,

"Until Bianca."

Michelle re-read the letter, and raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what Ricky is planning?"

"Probably not...although he is a good kid. I think he just vaulted himself in to favorite nephew standing." George added, wondering about boosting his Christmas present.

She elbowed him. "He's always been your favorite nephew, George. Don't try and kid me on that."

True enough. Not to put down James, Albus, Hugo or little Ced, but he'd always had a soft spot for Ricky...how could he not? He really was a worthy namesake for his late twin.

Michelle had gotten up to fix the swing for Katie, and George looked again at the letter, and spoke in his mind to his long dead twin:

_We'll just see what Frederick William Weasley has in store for your progeny, shall we, Fred? I have no doubt that he is up to the challenge. If it's worth while, a new broom may be in order..._

WWWWWWW

Monday, December 9th

Percy sat in his office at the ministry, dusting off his files and looking over his notes. It had taken nearly three months, but he had about ninety-five percent of his life back, including the little bit Umbridge had stolen from him seventeen years ago.

The missing memories entirely encompassed his days in Croatia, which were at best a complete blur. At worst, during what his calendar indicated was the last week before he was attacked, there was nothing but a deep dark hole. He did have notes, of course, that he had sent to Kingsley, but he'd read those over and it was like a work of fiction to him. He had no memory of any of it, and it wasn't triggering anything more concrete. Healer Morgainne had indicated that may in fact be the finite limit of his recovery...that final obliviation had been too violent, too reckless.

Percy supposed he was lucky that it wasn't worse. But he didn't feel lucky. He felt like he'd give up the 95 he'd recovered to get back the five percent he was missing. Because he couldn't help feeling that there was something very, very urgent behind what he had lost. And that somehow George was in the center of it.

Still, George didn't seem to worry, and George kept forbidding Percy to do so. He did have a point…there really wasn't much that George hadn't managed to survive in his past; he was damned strong, and determined. Could something out there, in Croatia, really hurt his little brother?

He wished he knew for sure.

"Welcome back." Hermione stuck her head in his door, a lopsided grin on her face. "Know you're busy, but when you get a chance I'd love for you to take a look at Project Together guidelines I drew up? I have to present in front of Kingsley next week and any feedback is helful."

"Together" was Hermione's pet project, the working title of a program to help unify select muggles and wizards in a joint effort to improve their world. Percy took the rather roll of parchment with a smile. "I don't know what I could possibly tell you, Hermione…I am hardly in Kingsley's favor at the moment."

That was true enough. Kingsley had moved Percy to strictly domestic operations. Theoretically it was to give him time to recover, but Percy knew that he'd been tagged as wanting some how from what had gone on. Not fair, really; he'd done an excellent job according to his notes, but then maybe it was for the best. If he'd told Penny he was bound on another overseas trip she would have killed him.

"Neither am I at the moment." Hermione added, with a shrug. That was true as well; Kingsley remained peeved at the unofficial rescue operation that was organized with ministry information obtained by Hermione and Harry. "But Kingsley's behind this project as well, and he's not a fool."

_Never used to be._ Percy's skepticism remained. He wasn't entirely sure that Kingsley hadn't perhaps lost some of his perspective over his very long and successful tenure as Minister of Magic. "Very well then, I'll read it over."

Kingsley at that moment joined them, looking quite official. "Ah, Percy…a word with you?" He coldly ignored Hermione, and she shrugged and walked away.

"Good morning, Minister." Percy stood to greet him, and Kingsley motioned to him to remain seating. "How can I help you?"

"You've done an excellent job, Percy, more than I could have asked you for, and you sacrificed quite a lot." Kingsley started, still standing calmly. "I've decided to assign you to the head of security of international travel."

That would have been considered a perk by many. It was not a hard job by any stretch, and usually included six weeks of vacation to "study" the methods of other Ministries in controlling the flow of travel between countries. Percy raised an eyebrow. "That usually is a reward to wizards far older than I am, Sir."

"But there are none who have put the work in that you have." Kingsley said. He nonchalantly looked over a stack of files on Percy's desk. "Oh, is this from Croatia?" He asked.

"They are. I've been going over them hoping to have them jog my last memories." Percy admitted.

"I see." Kingsley said quietly. And then, without any overt motions, the entire stack vanished. Percy bolted upright. "You don't need them any longer."

"Sir!" Percy rose, leaning forward. Kingsley held a hand out to stop him.

"Mr. Weasley…your service was excellent, but I cannot send you back there, and as you cannot go back, you have no need for the information. You mean well, your entire family does, I suppose, but I cannot trust you. Your perspective on the situation is not sound. I do not believe you would put the mission above other goals." Kingsley gave Percy a relieved look. "I am glad you do not remember your time there."

"Why…" Percy said through clenched teeth. "Is that?"

"Because I would hate to have had to obliviate you myself."


	34. Ch 34 Gifts pt 1

December 9th, 2013

_Dear Alf…_

_I got your letter, of course. I think you might perhaps have a few more things bothering you than you are letting on, but I'm not going to drag anything out of you. You're fifteen now, and you are remarkably mature for your age, and I can appreciate that whatever might be bothering you...and I suspect I know what is...might be something you want to handle for yourself. I just do want to make sure that you know I am here for you. Contrary to all indications, I have not always been the remarkably perfect person that I am now (stop laughing at me or you're grounded) and I might actually understand what you are going through. But enough of that._

_I do hope you decide to go to the ball on Friday (and what sense of humor the Headmistress has in choosing Friday the 13__th__! Inspired!). Even if you just go with a group of friends, I am sure it will be a good time. In fact, you might have a better time if you go in a group…I never saw anybody as miserable as Harry and Ron when they were forced in to finding dates. Neither of them were really ready to be dating, as hard as that might be to believe when you consider that a couple of years later they both had women hanging all over them…except of course the women they wanted. Funny how that works out._

_Anyway, I'm full in to Christmas shopping. The house may not be quite as decorated as when we were in Salem, but it's getting festive. And I have gotten all the prototype fireworks done for Croatia; it's all production now. You and CJ were completely instrumental in getting us to this point, and I'm glad you two will sort of get to see the fruits of your labors…I'll be shipping just a few days after you return from break._

_Your Uncle Percy is quite returned to normal, you'll be happy to know. In fact, he's better than normal. His remembering a missing chunk of time from the Umbridge days changed his perspective on himself entirely. He did stand up for what he believed in, even then, and it took an imperious and an obliviation to make him do something against the family. As a result, Percy now has a spine._

_That isn't actually very nice of me to put that way. But most of his life, Percy would tend to cower a bit to those in power. And if he's never actually cowered to Minister Shacklebolt, I always wondered if it said more about Shacklebolt than Percy. But lately Shacklebolt has been, I hate to say, a bit of a jerk. And Percy refuses to put up with it._

_He was offered this very cushy transfer, and he refused it, because he suspects that there's something about Croatia that Shacklebolt wants to hush up. I think Kingsley almost fired him, but instead he has stationed him on the WORST detail, testing magical implements for standardization…essentially the same thing he had to do when he first started work._

_Kingsley may have underestimated him. Percy very smugly told me last night that he is so good at inspecting cauldrons that he's left with a lot of free time. And if he spend his free time researching conditions in foreign lands, who's to stop him?_

_Percy being deceptive and mischievous. Next thing you know, I'm going to run for office!_

_Love, George…_

_PS…_

_If you happened to hear a loud crash then, it would be Michelle throwing a whole closet at me. It would seem she thinks my holding public office and the ensuing dangers might not be in my best interest, unless I want her to kill me._

December 12, 2013

_Hey, Dad,_

_I know you're probably wanting an update on the whole situation with the Yule Ball. At the time I wrote you last, I thought I was being rather clever, but obviously based on what you wrote to me, you've pretty neatly figured out what I was trying to hide. Namely, on some days right now I feel like an insignificant bug on the windshield of life._

_That sounds rather bleak, doesn't it? I should tell you that today hasn't been one of those days. It's just…it seems like Teddy and CJ and Eileen have all paired off, and I've felt somewhat left behind. And, I never told anyone else this, but it was Bianca who dumped me, not the other way around. I do know you'll understand __**that**__, because of what happened between you and Professor Morgainne. I would have told you, but Uncle Percy needed you so much more than I did, and I thought I had everything under control, or I would when I got back to school. Only it began to seem like school was just a continuation of the summer._

_Anyway, after all that, it may surprise you to know that I am going to the ball. Ricky, of all people, set it up. I was doing some extra credit for Professor Malfoy that was really hard, dealt with Caribbean Island potions, and Ricky mentioned that a girl in his house was from Barbados, and introduced me to her._

_I think he may have really been intending this as a bit of set up the entire time, and if I didn't know Professor Malfoy better I'd have said he was in on it. But anyway, she's a seventh year (!) named Marie-Angel Descadeaux. She had been in Beauxbatons until last year when she suddenly transferred, and she's pretty much been a loner the entire year._

_She was kind enough to help me, though, as these were potions she was really well versed in. But we didn't spend all of our time talking about potions; turns out the reason she transferred was to come live with an Aunt of hers; her Mum just passed away from cancer ( just like my Mum, only her dad is a muggle). I thought that was pretty remarkable. We talked about that a lot, and she seemed really interested in Aunt Hermione's ideas about magic-muggle unity, especially the medical possibilities of it._

_Anyway, after four days of this I suddenly just blurted out something that may have sounded like "youwannagoball?" Or to that effect. Not my most eloquent; Freddo might have done better. _

_To my shock, she said yes._

_Entirely just as friends, mind! She is a seventh year, for one, and for another, well, I just somehow know it's just friends. And I think your point about how Harry and Ron weren't really ready to be dating might actually apply to me, too. The situation with Bianca this summer being a good example of my getting in over my head and not perhaps looking at the bigger picture, like how little I really knew about her._

_Anyway, you can stop worrying about me, although you very kindly tried to pretend you weren't. I am not going to bury myself in books until my head explodes or anything. And I'll give you full details on Saturday._

_Love, Alf._

_PS…er, CJ did tell you he had a girlfriend, right? If he didn't, do me a favor and pretend I didn't drop that in there, okay? We've had one dumb fight this term, I don't fancy another._

WWWWWWW

Bill opened the door to Shell Cottage, and grinned widely when he saw his brother George there, carrying a package. "Who let you out of the workroom, bro?" Bill joked. "Last I heard you were up to your ear in gunpowder."

"Never. I couldn't afford to lose another." George replied. "I wanted to have a brief word with you a bit…um, about this." He handed the package over to Bill…it was long and thin, clearly a broomstick, and addressed to Ricky. The elder brother raised his eyebrows. "What's up with this, brother mine?'

George rubbed his neck. "Um, see…I was going to send it to him at school anonymously, like Sirius Black did for Harry…but I figured if you heard he'd gotten a 2013 Nimbus Black Hawk, you'd freak out!"

"A _Nimbus Black Hawk_?" Bill's voice became hushed. "Hell yes, I would have freaked out…that's a professional level broom. I'd have wondered what the hell he was up to if he'd just shown up with one!"

"See, that's what I was afraid of." George smoothed back his hair. "So I figured I'd run it past you."

"George…" Bill's brows drew downward. "You've always been an incredibly generous Uncle…but this is really beyond the call of duty. Are all the kids getting these?"

"No, which is why I didn't want to do it at Christmas over Mums." George looked earnestly at Bill. "I've always been fond of Ricky, Bill, but beyond that, well…" George fumbled in his robes. "Here. Read this."

Bill took the letter, the one that Ricky had sent to George, and read it carefully, not once, but twice. "Ricky sent you this. _My _Ricky?" He seemed stunned.

"C'mon Bill, you know he's a good kid." George cajoled. "And I can't tell you what it meant to me…just that he saw the need and decided to step in to help. It's…it's…"

"It's what you or Fred would have done." Bill finished quietly, folding up the letter. "I just never realized how much of Fred he had in him."

"It's more than the ability to blow things up, you know." George said, earnestly. "And there's more than the letter, too…he did more…but the important thing is, he was there when Alf needed him. And that's worth a thousand brooms, in my mind."

Bill set the package aside. "Thanks for explaining, George." He still looked thoughtful. "And you're right, although I am sure he didn't do it expecting this."

"Well of course not." George scoffed. "He's in Gryffindor, not in Slytherin!"

"YOU have a son in Slytherin now." Bill pointed out wryly.

"CJ's different." George waved away Slytherin briskly. "I'm convinced he got sorted there because of his past with Amos; it would have been what he needed to survive. He has no need for cunning and deception now."

"Naturally not, living with you." Bill grinned. "Well, you just made one twelve year old over-the-moon happy, and he doesn't even know it yet." Just then Bill spotted another package, smaller, flat, and square. "What's that?"

"Your present. Just in case you thought I was trying to unduly influence your son." George handed it forward.

Bill sniffed, and his face lit up. "Sweet potato pie??"

George laughed. "Can I take it that I just made somebody else happy, as well?"

"Shut up and come in so we can cut this thing up!"

WWWWWWW

CJ sighed, going through the shops at Hogsmeade. He was walking with Alf, doing the last of his Christmas shopping. Alf had paused to look over a couple of laughing rattles for the twins, and that gave CJ a moment to think.

This was his last Christmas.

He had been so good about not being maudlin about everything. But every once in a while it snuck up on him, at moments like this when he was actively contemplating a last moment of sorts. He wanted to give out excellent Christmas presents, ones that would have special meaning for his family, that they could look on when he was gone. Right now, though, he just felt tired. Tired, mostly, of the façade he kept up all the time.

Was this what Teddy had felt like, keeping up appearances while suffering from his moon sickness? Bloody hell, how had he stood it?

Alf came over to him, and CJ's face remained placid and at ease. "You picked out anything yet?" Alf asked.

"I found a trick puzzle box for Dad." CJ replied. "It's polished redwood, and has a 300 step combination of twists to it that have to be perfect to be opened." Inside of it, CJ didn't tell Alf, he planned to place one of the Wheezes toy snitches; it was the same novelty gift George had first given him. He expected it would take George some time to figure that out, and even if he did, he'd just think the gift particularly sentimental. "And I got Freddo that stuffed Grinch from the muggle novelty store. He's so in to those books."

"I know." Alf grinned. "I just got him another three. And the rattles for the twins, of course!"

"I got each of them a little porcelain box, each spelled to play whatever is their favorite song…for now it just does that lullaby that Dad sings to them." CJ knew they wouldn't remember him, but he hoped that years from now they might look at the little boxes and think of what they had heard about him from Alf, Mum and Dad.

"Which leaves Mum…Miss Shell." Alf frowned. "And that's really the problem one, isn't it?"

CJ looked at him curiously. "You do that more often now, you know." He pointed out. "Flipping on what to call her."

"Usually around you." Alf admitted. "I sometimes feel weird calling her Mum, and sometimes weird not. You do it too." He added.

"I do." He rather suspected he might do it more often if he wasn't aware of Alf's grappling with the concept. "She is the only mother I've ever known."

They were walking through the alley, and came across a jeweler. Both stopped in and looked.

There, in the window, was the answer to their anxieties: Beautifully crafted mother's rings; bands of intricate gold encasing the birth stones of their children. They looked at each other.

"Maybe if we pooled our money together?"

"We'd need a lot of stones." Alf pointed out. "Even if we counted the twins as one."

"Which we shouldn't." CJ added. "I am almost sure George would object to that." They looked back at the ring in the window. "So…the twins are July; that would be Ruby…one on each side…and then a cluster of three in the middle…I'm June, so Pearl or Moonstone…"

"We should use Moonstone. Because I'm Aquamarine for March, and Freddo is Blue Zircon for December. Two red stones and three blue."

"Perfect." CJ felt determined to go through with this. "But that's a lot of gemstones."

"And quite costly, I'm sure." A voice spoke from behind them. Professor McGonagall. "That ring in the window with one stone is over a hundred galleons…how much do you gentlemen have?"

CJ sighed. "I have fourteen…Alf?"

"Twenty." Alf admitted. Both shoulders sagged.

"Now lets say for example that you knew somebody skilled in metallurgy. The individual parts of that ring in raw materials could be had for your price, I am sure."

"But we don't know…" Alf came up short, and then he stopped. "Or do we?"

"As it happens, you do…" Minerva smiled warmly. "Though I've not exercised the craft in years. I was perhaps thinking I should like to teach some enterprising students a few new skills."

"But…" Alf paused. "We go home for Christmas break on Wednesday.

"That's three nights of extra credit work for you then." She winked. "Or we can call it detention, if you boys don't want to ruin your reputation."

"Actually extra credit would fit in with Alf's reputation." CJ teased, earning a thwack from Alf.

"Excellent. I shall see you tomorrow evening, then!"

And as quickly as she arrived, she was gone.

WWWWWWW

December 20, 2013

George's mood was better than happy as he closed up the store. He was off tomorrow, with Ron in charge, so he could pick the kids up from the Express. Freddo's birthday party would be Sunday, and then Christmas after that. The twins were lively and active, and slightly easier to tell apart…Mollie's cries were autocratic and demanding; Katie's were more a request, though she'd be the first to hex you if you didn't comply. And the boys appeared to have had an excellent term at school.

Funny, one thing he had always wondered about families that didn't have seven children…how did you survive without so many siblings? He and Fred just never had to worry about finding someone to hang out with, to entertain (or use for the purposes of creating entertainment), to bother and tease…but also to protect and defend. Or to be protected and defended by…he remembered Charlie threatening to thump a fourth year to Wales after he'd mocked Fred's inability to sing. Or Bill, on more than one occasion, pulling a bully off of Percy. Although he'd never seriously considered having seven children (though he'd come the closest, albeit with a little help), he had to wonder if the kids wouldn't be missing something.

Turns out, they had cousins.

Ricky's actions had cheered him beyond measure. Not only had he realized what his young nephew thought of Alf, he realized openly for the first time what Alf had come to mean to his nephew. And taking a step back, and thinking over the past, he could see Alf being the leader of the group Bill had been, with CJ and Teddy acting as backup; Victoire was the next in command, and spread her care to all. Ricky had sometimes been frustrated by not being with the bigger kids (boy did he remember that!) but the older kids had in turn tried to include him whenever they could, and that had paid off. They all turned their eyes towards the youngsters, caring for them and watching out for them, and sometimes teasing them and antagonizing them, as it was supposed to be.

Yes, it would take something colossal to knock him out of his high good mood.

So of course, as the bell rang just before closing, he looked up to see Amos Diggory.

_What the hell is that man doing in my store!_

"Hello, young George, I do hope I'm not bothering you." Amos grinned at him, a package in his hand.

"That depends." George said tersely. "On the reason that you're here."

"Tut, tut…such anger. Really, I should ask the ministry if you are perhaps a fit guardian for my son, with such a temper." Amos shook his head slowly.

George's face burned, and he struggled to keep his voice civil. "Of the two of us, I am not the one who cast hours of unforgivables at CJ." He managed, keeping one hand casually draped on the counter and the other out of sight with a grasp on his wand.

"And so unforgiving you are! It was my request, you know, that he live with you when I realized I was not fit to care for him." Amos shrugged. "But then, I can see that you have come to care for CJ quite a good deal, and I suppose that is a good thing." A peculiar gleam came in to Amos' eye. "You do care for him, don't you?"

George felt vaguely trapped, wondering if there was a formal answer he was supposed to give. He opted for the truth. "Diggory, I couldn't love him more than if he were my own son. Take that for a slight if you will, but it's true. He is a part of my family, and I would move heaven and earth to keep you away from him. No matter what the Minister says."

Amos's face lit up with pleasure, NOT the reaction George was expecting. "But that's wonderful, truly wonderful, and exactly what I want. You may not believe me, but trust me, it's all I've ever wished for." That gleam became more pronounced as he thrust forward a package. "Today was my annual visit to England, obviously a day too early to see the boy, and perhaps just as well. But I brought him this gift…just one little Christmas present. Surely you can't object?"

George froze looking at the package, and Amos hurried on. "You may open it, of course. I expect you would want to. Have one of those curse breaking brothers go over it to make sure it's not harmful. I can understand your need to do that, after all. I do understand why you don't trust me. But please, once you see it's not harmful, please do give it to him." Amos pleaded in a pitiful manner.

George met Amos's eye. "If I can determine it's not harmful, in ANY way, even in a non-magical way, then I will give it to him. Just understand that we may not have the same idea of what is harmful."

Amos gave a dramatic shrug. "Ah, well, then…that's as much as I can ask, I guess. Of course, I would love it if you would ask CJ to write to me to tell me how he's doing. I am sure the minister wouldn't want to hear that you were keeping him from doing so."

"I never have." George said, shortly. "But I will do as you asked, as long as you promise me you are leaving the country TODAY."

Amos gave a funny chuckle, raised his suitcase indicating he was doing so, and left as quickly as he came in. Not taking any chances, George levitated the gift without touching it, in to a special box designed to carry cursed or aggressively charmed products (a necessity at Wheezes). He wouldn't have put it past Amos to have spelled the thing to blow up when touched.

Once safely encased, George packed it up, then stuck his head in the floo. "Shell?"

A cacophony of crying babies greeted him; Freddo whimpering and the twins fussing. Ugh.

"Not good timing, George." Michelle, sounding harried, called back. "Mollie decided she didn't like strained peas and she flung them all at Freddo!"

"Sorry." George cringed. "I was letting you know I needed to stop by Perce for a minute, but if you need me to come home…"

"Go, George." She replied. "I can handle it…I just can't talk with you at the same time. Freddo, dear, don't rub them in; we'll never get them out of your hair…" She popped out of view.

George felt torn, but then shook his head. Somebody had to look at this thing before he took it in to his house, and Percy understood Amos better than anybody. Packing his stuff up, he headed to where he knew he could find help.

A gift? Was Amos serious?

Something was clearly not right.


	35. Ch 35 Gifts pt 2

"I was expecting you." Percy smirked as he led George into the small office he kept in his large flat in London.

"You couldn't possibly be!" George protested, and Percy answered by thrusting a bit of parchment in his hands, from Minister Shacklebolt.

"_Mr. Weasley…_

_I have earlier today been approached by our friend Amos Diggory about a gift he wishes to present to his son. I inspected it myself and have no doubt it is harmless, but I equally have no doubt that your brother George will be suspicious. I fully expect it will be to you he turns to, to investigate. For once, will you listen to me and trust it is harmless? Check it yourself if you wish, but make sure it gets to the boy._

_Remember, he ISN'T George's son, no matter how much George likes to pretend otherwise. I can move him at any time._

_Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic"_

The expletives that came forth from George's mouth caused Percy to hurry to close the door, lest his children come away with an entirely different view of their beloved Uncle.

"I quite agree with you." Percy smiled thinly as George stopped. "But what you have suggested would get you a ticket to Azkaban, if it's even anatomically possible."

"Damn it, Perce…if he comes anywhere near that boy…"

"He won't." Percy held his hand out. "Is that the gift?"

"I secured it in one of our transfer boxes." George said, handing it over with a frown and with a spell releasing its locks.

"Wise precaution." Percy looked at the gift thoroughly, and then began to cast a series of spells George only just recognized. Curse breaking, he supposed. Percy glanced up at him after a few minutes. "It has no immediately recognizable magical properties, which is a good thing, except for one minor curse…if you had touched it…you only, mind…it would have caused you to break out in vicious boils."

George gaped incredulously. "That's it? Amos traveled from Croatia to _prank_ me? Not even prank, honestly…that's hardly worthy of something I'd put in my store!"

Percy raised eyebrows. "It actually is a spell you could have done in your sleep, and broken in your sleep, which is why I don't trust it. And it will be fairly easy to break…anything more complex and I would have to call Bill." Percy walked over to the floo. "Which is why I _am_ calling him to come over."

George watched as Percy spoke in to the flames tersely, with a quick explanation, and within second Bill was in the room. "Most curse breakers don't make house calls!" Bill joked.

George didn't understand. "Hang on, I thought you said it was simple, Perce?"

"I said it appeared simple. And that I didn't trust it. I may not remember what happened in Croatia, but I know from the bottom of my heart that man is up to something, and it involves you." Percy came over to George, and they both watched Bill put the wrapped box through a series of spells, eventually pulling a bit of ribbon from the bow and dipping it in a tiny vial of potion.

A puff of sickly green smoke was emitted, and Bill scowled. With a few more waves of the wand, he obliterated the paper, sending it into an airtight bag that he sealed at once. "Nasty stuff that."

"What was…"

"Shhh!"

Percy and George looked at Bill, as Bill began to examine the gift itself. After a good ten minutes he stood up straight, and sighed. "There's nothing wrong with _this_. I would suggest we re-wrap it in the same colored paper and ribbon and give it to CJ as is."

George came forward. The gift was a framed photo of Cedric, with a wide smile, holding a snitch from a successful Quidditch game. The frame was engraved: _Make him proud_.

George snorted. "As if Cedric wouldn't be proud of him!"

"That's not the point." Bill looked at George. "The paper was aimed at you specifically, George, not whoever unwrapped the gift."

"So I'd break out in a few boils?" George repeated.

Percy shook his head. "I don't know, Bill…it seems an awful lot of work to do for a prank."

"Boils?" Bill looked from one to the other. "It would have been much worse than that. The boils were only the topical spell. The next stage would have had the boils causing extreme pain and then emitting an enzyme that would have rendered the suffer unstable." Bill glowered. "The darker objects in Gringots have been spelled similarly."

"Unstable how?" George questioned.

Bill looked at George carefully. "A wizard at the bank made the mistake of touching such an object once…he insisted he was fine and refused treatment. The next day he murdered his family."

George sat down weakly, glad for the precautions he'd taken, and his head reeling from the thought. He was vaguely aware of Percy and Bill discussing the situation, and he shook his head to clear his mind, trying to follow along. After a few seconds, he realized what they was saying. "Hang on, you're not suggesting that I give CJ that thing? I know it looks harmless, but even still!

"George." Percy soothed him. "Amos Diggory may be mad, but he isn't stupid. He even suggested you check the package out. Think about it, what would he expect you to do? Refuse to give it to CJ!"

"Which would make Shacklebolt attempt to remove CJ from your care." Bill finished.

"But as soon as I showed the Minister that spelled paper…" George protested.

"And have Kingsley admit that he missed it?" Percy shook his head. "Surely you've noticed he's not the man he used to be."

George reached over and gingerly picked up the frame, needing to feel for himself that it wasn't causing any trouble. A thought occurred to him and he looked over at Percy with concern. "Percy, how _did_ he miss this?"

"Two possibilities. One, he didn't miss it. Now, I don't think there's anything malicious about the man…he's just succumbed to Fudge disease, if you get my drift. So I don't actually believe that he intentionally let the package through. However, another option: it would have been very easy for Amos to spell it afterwards, as Kingsley should have foreseen."

"And didn't." Bill added. "That concerns me."

Percy began drumming his fingers on the table. "Not me, actually. It fits in with how he's acting. Whatever it is that he hopes to accomplish in Eastern Europe, he seems to believe that keeping Amos happy is a key to it…like the work Amos is doing is more important than _anything else_ he might have to sacrifice."

"Including CJ." George was recognizing the pattern. It had been a few years since George had once retorted to Kingsley: "_I thought you were a better man than Cornelius Fudge, but I guess I was wrong._" He wished now that he hadn't been so accurate in what he had meant to be an insult. "So…I just hand this to CJ?"

"Yes. With a few modifications, of course." Bill grinned. "Let me work on it a bit. I think I can throw a trace on it that will alert us if it suddenly obtains any magical properties. Even make it self destruct in the event of becoming dangerous."

"Brilliant." George exhaled and handed the frame over to Bill. "I can live with that, I suppose." He rose, feeling older than his years. "As long as CJ can." He added.

"We'll keep him safe, George." Bill said, earnestly.

"We'll keep you all safe." Percy vowed.

WWWWWWW

December 25th…Shell Cottage.

Ricky Weasley curled up in the window of his bedroom that overlooked the sea. Not far away from him was a shinny new broom, so sleek and fast looking that it almost seemed to vibrate with the anticipation of speed. In his arms was a box, a Quidditch practice kit that had been a special gift from his father.

His Dad had given him the broom first, before they went over Gran's for Christmas eve. He'd been rather serious about the whole thing, and slightly severe, about the responsibility such a broom entailed, and about the huge honor such a gift had been. Well, that was Dad; always so serious, so stern. Ricky, of course, had half listened to him, and been overjoyed…really unnecessary for Uncle George, after all, he'd just been helping out Alf, and who wouldn't help Alf?

"Maybe I can make the Quidditch team next year…" He'd mused when his father finally let him get a word in edge wise. "I know I could never be a chaser like you were, but I bet I'd be a fair beater."

His father in surprise had asked him. "Why don't you think you could be a chaser?"

Ricky hadn't missed a beat. "Not good enough. You know that."

Then Mum had hurried them off, Ricky reluctantly leaving the broom behind (though he knew he wouldn't lord it over his cousins…well, maybe just James, but nobody else) and had gone on to a wicked Christmas Eve, the house bursting with family, noise, yelling, singing, eating, all in all a perfect Weasley Christmas. And the next morning, more yelling and more eating, accentuated with gift opening.

He'd caught snatches of things here and there. Dad having bought Mum some special perfume that made her all weepy because it had been what she had been wearing when they'd met; Gran receiving a whole new lot of special yarns from Miss Shell, Uncle Ron getting a gag architectural award from Uncle George. And he'd gotten this, specifically from his Dad, and was pleased; he guessed it was Dad's way of granting him approval to try and make the team next year.

He'd caught CJ once or twice looking over the family, sometimes looking a little off. The first year CJ had spent with them he'd looked like that most of the holiday, like he felt himself an outsider. That hadn't happened in a while, though…CJ belonged with them; he was a Weasley in all but name (and hair color). It had been surprising to see that look of longing, even for a second.

A few minutes afterward, CJ had found himself on the receiving end of a spray of water from a trick wand Uncle George had given to Ricky; Alf had joined in and soon all the kids, as well as Uncle George and Uncle Ron, were creating chaos, and CJ was laughing.

Then Ricky'd caught his Dad's eye, looking utterly exasperated, and he'd subdued himself somewhat. But Gran and Gramps hadn't seemed to mind.

Anyway, they were home now, and Ricky was earnestly contemplating how he was going to manage to stay out of trouble for the next three weeks. It wasn't like he wanted to get in to trouble, it just seemed to _find_ him sometimes. Particularly when he was bored.

"Rick?" His father looked in the bedroom. "You should be in bed." His father pointed out.

Ricky sighed. "I know. I was just…" Carefully he put aside the box, knowing he could never explain exactly why he'd been sitting there looking outside and clutching one of his gifts. He wasn't sure he understood why himself. "Never mind. Going to bed now." He hopped off the window and scurried under the covers.

For the first time in a very long time, his father came in and sat near him, looking a little awkward. He reached back over to the broom and smiled. "No need to ask what your favorite gift was, eh?"

Ricky surprised both of them perhaps, when he said, "The Quidditch kit."

His dad turned to him in surprise. "It's okay if it's the broom." He said finally.

"The broom rocks." Ricky admitted. "But I can't practice without the kit." He added.

"I never knew that you wanted to be on the team before." Bill said, looking directly at him.

"Oh, I've always wanted to. I mean, it's like a family rite of passage, isn't it? Didn't everyone play on their team?" Ricky pointed out.

"Not Percy. I think he enjoyed being different sometimes. It's hard to stand out in a group of seven." Bill grinned in memory.

Ricky sighed. "Sometimes I wish I stood out a little bit less." He was an only son. Of a man who had been in his day a Prefect, a Head Boy, and who had received the top marks in his class; and of a woman who had been Head Girl and the Champion of Beauxbatons, a tri-wizard competitor of renown. "Sometimes I wonder if somebody just left me on your doorstep." He mused.

Bill leaned forward with wide eyes. "WHAT?"

Oops. He hadn't meant to say that last bit out loud. "Not really, Dad." He hurried on. In trouble already? That might be a record! "I just mean I'm not much like you or Mum, or Victoire, even."

Something came in to his father's eyes that he couldn't quite recognize then. Well, at least it wasn't anger, or annoyance even; Ricky knew _those_ looks well enough. "No, you're not. I would never have realized how down Alf was, and been able to pick him up out of it with a snowball fight. I never would have noticed that there was a girl in my house who was lonely and might need a friend to take her out to the ball, and realized who the right person was. And last year, when Victoire was so upset when Teddy was ill, you never moved from her side. When I was your age, I never would have done any of that, because I was too full of myself to see when others needed me."

Ricky felt speech leave him for a moment. Then he burst into protest. "That's not true; everyone says they always went to you when they needed help! Uncle Ron when he had the argument while fighting Voldemort, Uncle George when they had a fight on the Quidditch match…everyone always goes to you first. You know EVERYTHING."

Bill gave a little chuckle. "I certainly thought I did." Then he reached over and put his hand on Ricky's forehead. "But they came to me, son. I never went to them. Solving their problems made me feel more important. I didn't see it that way then, but I do now. _You_ see problems and try to fix them without being asked."

"Like with CJ today." He said, giving his father a slightly pleading look. "He was really down about something today, Dad. I don't know what, but I had to try and get him out of it. I can't explain why, just that I had to."

"Ah." Bill gave a rueful look. "I suppose I should be grateful that it was _only_ water."

"You should. The wand shoots jelly too." Ricky answered.

Bill's laughter was surprising, and to Ricky's shock, his father leaned forward and kissed him on top of the head. "Get to sleep. We start practice tomorrow."

"We…what?" Ricky blinked.

"Quidditch. Beater or Chaser, whatever you want…you don't know how good you are until you try, Rick. I've got a few days off and I think maybe if we keep you busy I might not find the house sprayed with jam."

"G'night, Dad." Ricky answered, with a grin.

Bill paused at the door to look at him for one more second. "About CJ, Ricky…I need you to keep an eye on him like you did Alf. Not anything obvious, now; just, if you notice him being down again, let me know, hm?" Another funny look came on his face. "You can write to me too, you know."

"Of course." Funny, he'd never thought his father would want a letter from him before.

As he settled in for sleep, he thought over his reaction to his gifts, and managed to work out what he could never quite explain. He loved his broom, but then, he wasn't surprised by the sentiment behind it. Uncle George had always believed in him. But his Dad…he'd never quite felt good enough. That kit meant that maybe, just maybe he was.

He smiled to himself. Watch CJ. No problem. He could do that. Of course, he had no doubt that Alf or Teddy would spot something much sooner, but if it made his father happy to think he could try, then he would.

And he went to sleep dreaming of being on the team, as a chaser, actually managing to score on Alf. No aspiration could be higher.

December 25th…Ministry of Magic

Kingsley Shacklebolt sat back in his office, looking out a window that could be spelled to give him the view he chose. Tonight, that view was of the old city of Dubrovnik, Croatia. It helped him to remember what his goals were, and how close he was to obtaining them.

It might have been considered a lonely Christmas by normal standards. He had spent it alone, in here, going over paperwork, receiving reports and reviewing plans. Kingsley had never had time for a family. He'd devoted himself, body and soul, to the defeat of Voldemort. Both as a very young man during his first run, and then as a wise adult in the Harry Potter years. He remembered clearly seeing how Fudge faltered in disbelief and denial, watched Scrimgeour's militant tactics backfire on him, and gladly led the final charge that freed them all.

He'd been honored at the outpouring of respect he'd received…honored and shocked. He had never served for the purpose of his own glory, and never craved power. But somehow he'd emerged as the second most popular persona of the war, after Harry Potter himself, and after all, Harry hadn't been much more than a boy then. His election to Minister had awed him, and he vowed to be everything his predecessors had not been.

So much to clean up, there had been. Tracking down death eaters. Removing imperious curses. Trying to fairly decide who was acting only at the command of others. Trials of those who were clearly guilty. Justice…and, when appropriate, mercy. Mending their world.

And for about ten years, it was enough. They had come so far. There was prosperity. There was very little in the way of danger. It was all wonderful, all safe, all growing.

And so bloody _boring_.

Not that Kingsley ever wanted to see another Voldemort. No, no, not at all. Just, it did seem like all those talents he spent years honing were rather being wasted. So, as he had underministers performing more and more of his domestic needs, while he kept his eyes on foreign lands. And he'd spotted the growing discontent in eastern Europe far before their own heads of state did. He'd worked covertly just to get Filipowski elected, because he knew that he was a man who could be trusted.

And over time he'd fomented the resistance there. Perhaps, he might admit, he spent more time worrying about their land than his own. But then, that was what he was good at, fighting evil, bringing darkness to light. There was no need for any of that in Britain.

Of course, there was a price to pay. He was aware that those closest to him in his own ministry were beginning to question him…even Harry Potter, who once no doubt considered him a hero of sorts. And though at first his underministers had supported him, like Mr. Weasley, they recently had changed their tune. Accusing him of losing his perspective.

On the contrary…he grimaced at the view of the beautifully illuminated ancient city. It was they who lost their perspective, and their faith in him. He wouldn't actually risk young CJ's life. Not like Fudge had taken Harry Potter's life so cavalierly. No, of course he would never risk letting that vow come true. He would end it before CJ ever risked death.

He knew about the vow, of course. He was a deeply powerful auror, and legilimency came as naturally to him as it once had to Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. He'd had control over Diggory in the time that Percy Weasley had brought the damaged, abused boy to George's care. And with a few spells, he'd seen what Amos and Lucius Malfoy had done. And where he saw abuse, he saw too, opportunity.

He'd been quietly letting Amos and Lucius assist in fomenting revolution ever since. Because they didn't know that _he knew_. And he kept giving them rope, and letting them hang themselves. They had the opposition prepared for a large scale disaster, in the failure of the centennial celebrations, orchestrating the mass protests and chaos that would follow in what they thought would be their ministry's failure.

But _he knew_. Kingsley smiled to himself. There would be a celebration. And it would be the forces of darkness that once more stood with empty hands, as those they had roused realized their lies. And a roused rabble would turn to the deceivers, every time. Amos foolishly trusted him, but it would be his life, and not the life of his son, that would be sacrificed.

Then he could retire. One last laurel to add to his collection. One last achievement made. One last stand against darkness.

Then let the prosperity be managed by a more interested man. His work would be done.

Kingsley looked at the landscape once more, and then raised his wand with a flick. And all was black.

WWWWWWW

December 25th…Godric's Hollow

George had waited until they had returned home and he had a moment in private with CJ to give him his father's gift. He'd explained what he could, that is, the order from the ministry that he had to present it, and that it had been thoroughly checked. He didn't tell CJ about the original curse on the paper.

CJ trusted him, though his face had fallen into worried lines, an expression George hadn't seen on CJ for many months. He opened it carefully, and then pulled out the frame. To his surprise, CJ smiled. "Stupid idiot." He said.

"Come again, Ceej?"

"My so called father." CJ proudly put the photo on his night table, looking a question at George. "You are sure that there isn't anything weird about this thing, right?"

"Positive. Percy and Bill both checked it out thoroughly." George assured him.

"Well, then. My father intends this to mean one thing…that I am failing him by not being as good as Cedric." CJ shook his head slightly. "But I know that Cedric wouldn't think that. He wants me to make Cedric proud; he doesn't realize that I already have."

George felt weight shifting from his shoulders, and he smiled even wider. "I am glad to hear you say that. I knew your brother, CJ. He wouldn't want anything to do with the man your father is today." He sat back. "That was quite the ring you two got Miss Shell, by the way."

CJ grinned. "She nearly cried, didn't she? Girls are so funny that way…why DO they cry when you make them happy."

"You, of course, are calling on your vast experience with women to make that point." George laughed. "And yes, you know that you and Alf acknowledging her as a mother meant the world to her." A memory came to George, and he frowned once more. "Oh, nearly forgot, you need to write some sort of thank you note to _that man._ Or Kingsley will accuse me of driving a wedge between you."

"Like you need to." CJ snorted. "Still, no problem. And I think I can compose it in such a way that works…for everybody."

George rubbed his head, and then he ambled out of the room.

Not wasting any time, CJ grabbed some parchment and got to work.

_Dear Father:_

_I am in receipt of your gift and am humbled by it. Receive my assurances that I have not forgotten the promise I made to you; I never could._

_I am completely certain that I will make Cedric proud._

_CJ_


	36. Ch 36 The Final Countdown, pt 1

From the Diary of CJ Diggory:

Marcy 18th, 2014...

And the countdown continues.

I woke up this morning in a cold sweat, from a dream where I was at Wheezes. I could feel my hand on explosives, could see myself setting the fuse. It was warm in there; stuffy and humid, and the air was thick. I had a cut on my mouth and could taste blood; the wand in my hand was as real as the curtains around my bed were on waking. And I saw myself giving the command to set off the fuse.

And the worse thing is, all I kept repeating over and over to myself, was that I was doing what my father wanted, doing it because he commanded it, doing it because I loved him. I _knew_ this, just as certainly as I knew the sun would rise in the east the next day.

What the _hell_?

I need to start working on some potions that will knock me out more completely at night. There's no way I'm going to be able to keep up this front if I can't get any sleep. Unlike Teddy, I don't have the ability to make myself into a handsome blighter even when my physical body is breaking down.

The dream won't leave me, though. It seemed strangely real, as real as that dream I'd had about being in the shop as a young man, alive and happy. Well, I'd thought that was a seer dream too, and it had amounted to shite, so clearly divination _is_ bullshit. And yet...and yet I feel strangely terrified that the one last night was bloody inevitable.

After a few moments, I reached a resolution: I should end it all now.

And again, as has happened every time I'd had that thought before, came Cedric's voice to me. _Don't._

The last time was over Christmas break. Alf and I had been helping to churn out fireworks with George, laughing and joking the whole time. Uncle Bill had allowed Ricky to come over as well, and though we made sure he wasn't given anything above his abilities, he turned out to be a pretty solid worker. AND he kept us cracking up; he's really got a wicked sense of humor.

Anyway, Ricky seemed to stick really close by me for much of the time, and every now and then when I just felt a little, I dunno, tired, maybe...he picked me up and found something particular to tease me on.

But there came a time when he wasn't there...nobody was. Alf and Ricky went to pick up lunch and George got called to the front with a customer issue, and I was alone in the stock room.

It's packed, almost every square inch, with fireworks. George keeps adjusting the wizardspace to hold more, but really if a building could groan, this one would. And I had this feeling, this _itch_, to set the fuse, to just take everything out now. _So easy_, I kept thinking. _So easy._

And then there was another voice inside my head, _No, no...he might be able to rebuild if you did it now, might still make the contract...you must wait._

Fear filled me, and I pointed the wand at my own chest...I would destroy myself before this building!

And then Cedric's voice. _Don't._

I didn't move my wand for a few moments, and Cedric's voice filled me. _Don't, CJ. You need to wait, as long as you can. You need to wait!_

For what, I'd thought tersely? A ruddy _miracle_?

And yet I'd put the wand down, and by the time the family got back to me I was looking normal, not at all like somebody who'd come within seconds of suicide.

This, I suppose is what an unbreakable does, as it gets near its deadline. The pressure, the nightmares, the impending sense of inevitability. Sometimes I feel like I have two demons fighting for my soul; I used to think one was on the side of the light, and the other the forces of dark, but I'm not even sure I can tell the two apart anymore.

And I don't know how much more of this I can take. My birthday is June first. And I am afraid if I really wait until the last possible moment, that I will give in to the dark side. So Easter, then...if there is no miracle by Easter, I will end it all. I'll be home then, and it's probably better if I end it there. Because I just don't trust myself to get much closer than that.

At least I will be home.

WWWWWWW

Minister Filipowski was worried.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been an ally and a friend. And he seemed supremely unworried about the potential devastation that he'd gathered information on. _Wait, _was all Kingsely kept saying to him. He insisted that he had everything covered, that there was a plan in place and that the rebellion would never come to fruition. But neither would he share this information with him.

That was wrong. This was his federation, he was in charge, not Shacklebolt. Really, what gave the bloody Brits the idea that they were the only ones who knew how to run a ministry? It was undoubtedly true that Shacklebolt knew more about fighting the forces of darkness than any other living minister, and Filipowski more than welcomed the help. But there was a difference between being helped, and being manipulated, and he was increasingly feeling like what was going on was the latter.

He needed that celebration to go off as planned. The people were looking forward to it; it was to be a crowning achievement, a shining example of what the united wizards of the region could accomplish. If it failed, it would make him look inept and futile; different factions would feel slighted, chaos would ensue. Yet all along he'd gone ahead with Kingsley's suggestions, the choice of artisan for the fireworks, the moving of the date, the changing of the very fabric of the celebration itself. All suggested by the British minister.

Well, it was his Ministry, not Shacklebolt's, that was on the line. And he wasn't going to continue to let things be taken out of his hands. He came over to the floo, and set up a firechat, making sure his network was secured.

"Mr. George Weasley, please..."

After a few seconds, a face appeared in his fireplace. "Yes, Minister Filipowski?"

"I am sorry to disturb your breakfast." The Minister said by way of acknowledging that it wasn't more than 6am in England, and that he'd interrupted Weasley at home. But Filipowski knew that the floo in George's office was being monitored by Shacklebolt. "I wished to enquire as to your status with our fireworks delivery?"

"Our status is ahead of schedule, actually. There will be no problem in meeting the June 3nd deadline; we're scheduled to ship on the first." George held a mug forward. "Coffee?"

Skeptically Filipowski accepted the mug, and was pleasantly surprised to discover the one Englishman who seemed to understand the proper method of brewing something other than tea. "Thank you, my friend. You might not be so cordial when I ask you, if you would mind moving that date up."

"That depends." George's voice was wary. "How "up" are we talking about?"

Filipowski considered. "There are many rumors of disruption to our goals afoot here, Mr. Weasley. I have a safe location designated to store your products, and I would feel safer if I had them under my control. Understand it is not you I do not trust; but too many are aware of our dates and deadlines. Moving things, say within the month, would thwart them."

Filipowski waited. He fully expected George Weasley was a party to whatever nonsense Shacklebolt was orchestrating...contrary to his stated opinion, he trusted no one. He wanted to see what excuses Weasley would come up with, on why that blasted June 1 date was so important.

George was thinking, sipping his coffee carefully. "You know, I could do it right after Easter."

Filipowski nearly fell off of his seat, he was so pleasantly surprised. Perhaps, just perhaps, Mr. Weasley wasn't a part of this scheme at all? "You can?" He repeated, to make sure he'd understood.

"I could ship 75 of it now, if you wanted; but I'd suggest waiting a bit. I can guarantee 95 of stock by April 19th. Might be more; my boys will be home with me for the week prior to that, and they're pretty handy." George gave him a grin. "You seem shocked."

"I was not sure you could do this." He admitted. A worry crossed his mind. "If I might ask, Mr. Weasley...is it possible to keep this changed date as quiet as possible? Forgive me, but I have foes everywhere."

"I remember what that was like." George said quietly, absentmindedly stroking the scarred side of his head. "Normally I'd tell my brother Ron, but he's rather wrapped up in a project of his own. So I'll not tell anyone; just keep churning out the work until I tell the boys we're prepping to ship." George gave him an inquiring look. "Does Shacklebolt know?"

"He does not. And I would rather you not tell him." Filipowski watched George closely.

And received a thin smile in reply. "I think that's a wise decision. He's playing games, our Minister is, and I won't be a party to that."

Filipowski nodded once. "Then I do not hesitate to mention that you might want to be careful of what you say by the floo in your offices."

George's eyes widened and there was a momentary flicker of anger that he calmed down with effort. "I thank you for the advice. So, we're settled then?"

Filipowski felt both vindicated and relieved. "Indeed! April 19th, my friend; and then on schedule in June, won't we set the world on fire!"

WWWWWWW

"What do you mean, he moved the date up?" Lucius Malfoy scowled fiercely, pacing back and forth in his extensive suite of rooms.

Amos, flustered and flabbergasted, could only shake his head. "I know what I heard. He moved the date with Weasley...AND he instructed Weasley to tell nobody, not even Shacklebolt!" Amos had been in a secret cove nearby, listening on an Extended Ear. If he had any sense of irony left, he might have chuckled over the fact that the product he'd chosen had been the brainchild of a man he'd sworn to destroy.

Lucius continued pacing, his knuckles white in the grasp of his cane. Then he stopped short, and gave a thin smile. "Wait...you mean Shacklebolt doesn't know?"

"No, and Weasley will keep his word; what honor he has wouldn't let him break it." Amos snorted.

Malfoy's smile was wider then. "Brilliant, actually...why, it may play right in to our hands."

"Lucius!" Amos got his attention. "CJ thinks he has another month to destroy the shop, and the fireworks in it. We need those fireworks to be part of the deal; for your sake, to cause the mayhem, and for mine; that's the only way George will be completely gutted!"

"Then..." Lucius said. "We will simply have to change the date."

Amos looked at him like he was crazy. "It's an _unbreakable vow, _Lucius. He had to destroy the store by his sixteenth birthday. How exactly are you going to change the date?"

Malfoy smiled. "Leave it to me."

WWWWWWW

April 2nd, 2014--Letter from Ricky Weasley to Bill Weasley

_Hey, Dad..._

_I purposely didn't write to you yesterday because I was afraid you wouldn't believe me, or worse, would think that the parchment was spelled to turn your hands green or something. Not, of course, that I would ever do something like that...often...or to you...but anyway..._

_To be serious for a second, I've noticed lately that CJ seems a bit off. It's hard to place, and really I don't think Teddy or Alf have noticed, so maybe it's nothing. Or maybe it's that he keeps his guard up better when he's around them then on the rare chance that I catch him out. But every now and then, it's like his face slips a moment, and he looks, frankly, haunted. It's only for a second or two, and it's only happened twice, but it has happened. And I know you wanted me to give you a head's up if I saw anything at all._

_Anyway, we're almost at Easter break. It may just be that OWLS are coming up for him and he's fried. Or it could be the upcoming game against Ravenclaw...I think CJ wants this victory really, really badly. But I thought you should know._

_Of course, when possible I try to amuse him. That may be why his hands are green this morning!_

_Later...Ricky_

April 6th.

Alf headed out to the pitch for the last Quidditch match of the year. Next Saturday they'd be heading home for the Holiday, where Dad had already warned them that he planned on putting them to work. Well, that deadline for the fireworks was getting close. It was a shame that he'd have to miss the game today, but not entirely unexpected. And not just because of the commission...George would have had a difficult time choosing a son to root for!

Today was Ravenclaw versus Slytherin, with the house cup on the line. Not the first time Alf and CJ had squared off, but the first time it meant so much. And Alf could appreciate the exceptionally awkward position that would put them in. Hell, his step mother had nearly bitten of the head of a first year who asked her who she was rooting for, apparently the tenth person to do so. ("The Boston Red Sox! She'd snapped, confusing the heck out of the wizard-born kid).

Alf was now Captain of the team, an honor he'd stepped in to after his third year, when Darius had graduated. He looked around at his group, all his age and younger, and was pleased with them. Taylor Conlogue, Teddy's girlfriend, was one of the chasers, and was actually quite good. Their seeker was young, a second year named Harriette Hamblett, who had proudly announced that she was named after Harry Potter and that's why she wanted to be a seeker. Turns out she was pretty good too.

Alf knew, though, that his team was overachieving. Only Taylor had been on the team with him last year. Still, Alf was very good himself and Harriette had come on like gangbusters, and though he Slytherin was very strong, he had every confidence that they could come out on top.

"Nervous?" Ricky fell in to step beside him, having come from nowhere, as he often did.

"Nope. Excited." Alf gave him a narrow look, with a smirk. "So...who are you rooting for?"

"Like any good Gryffindor, I'm rooting for a long tie game that denigrates into fisticuffs and costs you so many house points it puts us in the running." Ricky replied with a wink.

Alf laughed then, and looked across the pitch. "Talk to CJ today?"

"Earlier. He seems pretty strung up." Ricky looked at Alf. "I think he really wants to beat you, Alf?"

"Oh, so you've noticed that?" Alf gave a strong smile in reply. It had been a running joke for years, but for the past few weeks he'd felt an undercurrent of...desperation, maybe?...in CJ's comments. An underlying sarcasm that showed how badly he wanted this. "You would think it was the last time we'd ever be going head to head!" A bell sounded; fifteen minutes to game. Alf looked at his young cousin and gave him a nudge. "Just cheer for a good game, Rick."

And Alf jogged blithely off to his team.

WWWWWWW

Ricky found Teddy in the Gryffindor stands; though most fifth years didn't have time for second years, Teddy and Ricky considered each other family, and the older boy was usually pretty decent to him. Now was no exception as Teddy slid over on the bench to give him room. "Who are you rooting for?" Teddy asked, as it seemed to be the question of the day.

"A good game." Ricky parroted Alf's request. "You?"

"Ravenclaw." Teddy said, though he looked a tad apologetic. "Well, it's my best mate and my girlfriend against my second best mate and five people I don't like." He pointed out. "I hope CJ has a good game, though."

"For CJ to have a good game, Alf would have to have a bad one." Ricky pointed out. "And I thought you liked Miki well enough?" Miki, the seeker, was CJ's girl.

Teddy gave a shrug. "She's not really good enough for CJ, you know. A bit fickle, I've always thought. He acts sometimes like she's the only one who'd ever take him."

Ricky watched as the players came out for handshakes. "I know you weren't foolish enough to point that out to him?"

Teddy gave him a wide grin. "Actually, I did. After he knocked me on my arse, he pointed out that she might well be. I told him to wait a few months and see how the girls changed." Teddy gave a sudden frown. "You know, he said he didn't have time."

Didn't have time. That was the second time in the past half hour someone had made that comment to him. CJ had to beat Alf, and you would think that it would be the last time they would be squaring off. CJ didn't have time to play the field, he had to take the girl who was there now. Like CJ was on a time limit, like his time was running out...

The whistle blew, and Ricky lost his train of thought in the game.

It started out innocently enough; sharp, crisp passing from the Slytherins; sloppier but more inventive play from the young Ravenclaw, and brilliant keeping by Alf. But as the match went on, things got a little crazy. CJ almost had a mad glint in his eye sometimes, as he made more and more difficult shots on goal, and Alf was wearing himself out trying to make saves. At times it was as if they were the only two people on the field.

Then the play got harder, almost dirtier. Bludgers went astray. Alf nearly missed taking a Quaffle to the head (though not thrown by CJ). Ravenclaw had a lead of 200-50, with CJ having scored every goal. The Slytherin keeper was the only first year player, and he was clearly intimidated. And then, there was the first sight of the snitch.

It got crazy then. Miki dove after it, and he heard the Slytherin Captain Mario Flanders screaming at her not to do it, because capturing the snitch while down 150 points would only be a tie, and the result would not be enough points to put Slytherin in the overall lead for the house cup. Meanwhile, Harriette was trying to distract Miki and out-fly her, and was nearly doing it.

At that moment, CJ charged in full at Alf, who'd been momentarily distracted. Ricky saw it coming...Miki was just a little better than Harriette, and would probably get the snitch. CJ was trying desperately to score just one more time, before Miki ended the game, or else they would as good as lose.

CJ threw, and Alf lunged...Miki went in to a steep dive...the entire crowd held their breath.

Slytherin 210, Ravenclaw 200.

And the Slytherin team exploded; pandemonium ensued.

Ricky exhaled, and Teddy have a little shrug. "Well, cheering up Taylor isn't the worst possible situation for me to be in." He pointed out.

Ricky got up and fought through the crowds. He spotted CJ and Miki being carried off on the shoulders of their house mates, and figured that this time it might be Alf who needed cheering up.

WWWWWWW

He saw the shot. It was one he and CJ had practiced over and over in the back yard. Only, CJ had never quite executed it so perfectly before. He saw the arc, drew in his breath and lunged for it, only to have the shot brush just pass his fingers and through the hoop, only seconds before Miki captured the snitch.

_We lost. We lost. WE LOST!_

Alf was quite stunned momentarily, as he sank to the ground. His team-mates followed suit, each looking stunned and confused; Harriette actually was near tears. That got through to him and Alf went over to her with a smile he hoped was calming. "You played a great game, kid." He rubbed her head. "And you had a great season. Next year you will be unstoppable."

_We lost!_

Alf looked over and saw a wide eyed, equally stunned but grinning wildly CJ just coming to earth, to get swamped by Miki, who planted a huge kiss right on his face, making him blush. He heard CJ laugh out loud, and something in that sound melted something in Alf. He came forward, and fighting through the Slytherin throng, led by a whooping Professor Malfoy, he offered his hand. "Great shot, Ceej." He smiled with full confidence.

CJ laughed a bit more, studied Alf for a moment, and then realizing Alf really wasn't pissed off, he came over and bear-hugged him. "If you tell me you let that in on purpose, I'll kill you." CJ said indistinctly.

"As if!" Alf scoffed. "You beat me this time." Alf pushed him out to arms-length. "I suppose I can give you one."

CJ's smile was surprisingly radiant. "One is all I need, Alf."

WWWWWWW

A group of students went out to Hogsmeade that evening. Alf was walking with Teddy, trying to calm him down; not half an hour ago Taylor had dumped him because she felt Teddy was patronizing her. "Honestly!" Teddy grumbled, kicking at the dirt. "All I said was that she was a much better looking chaser than CJ. I meant it to be a compliment!"

"Yeah, well, you said yourself last week that she'd been acting crabby for a while." Alf reminded him. "I do believe you were thinking about breaking up yourself not long ago."

"Yeah, but that was me breaking up with her, not the other way around." Teddy muttered. Alf could commiserate, but he hardly felt like explaining the finer points of Bianca to him at this moment. Ahead, Alf spotted CJ leaning against a wall, talking animatedly to Miki while his arm was wrapped around her.

"I still don't like her." Teddy interjected.

"Me either." He would so much rather see CJ with Liv; even if she was only 14. Still, there was no denying that both CJ and Miki were over the moon at the moment, and he managed a sigh. "I've never seen him so happy, Teddy."

"Yeah." Teddy admitted. They watched together as CJ gave Miki a peck on the cheek, and left her outside a café where much of Slytherin had gathered. He came over to Teddy and Alf.

"Thanks again, Alf." CJ said, still glowing in the victory.

"Will you _stop that_!" Alf punched him lightly. "You do realize every time you thank me I am left to contemplate ways to beat the snot out of you next year?"

A funny look flitted over CJ's face, but was quickly gone. "You won't have a problem." He said, then changed the subject. "Um, Teddy...I heard about...I mean..."

"Great, has EVERYBODY heard?" Teddy grumbled. Then, reluctantly, with a nod at Miki, "You seem to be doing okay?"

"Yeah." CJ looked a little sheepish. "She left her sweater in the common room; I was just going to dart back to get it for her."

"Go." Alf considered teasing him, but decided that seeing CJ happy was more important at the moment. "And don't get caught doing anything I wouldn't do."

CJ raised eyebrows at him. "I saw you all summer, Alf. What, exactly, wouldn't you do?"

Alf threw a half hearted jelly legs at CJ, which he was able to skip over easily, and they both laughed. Even Teddy joined in eventually, and they watched as CJ disappeared down the path.

"C'mon, Teddy. Let's drown our single status in ice-cream." Alf offered.

WWWWWWW

The path that lead out of Hogsmeade towards Hogwarts was quiet in the twilight. In Harry Potter's days, it was unlikely that a student would have been allowed to wander in the early evening. But fifteen years of peace changed things somewhat. Now, students fifth year and above were permitted to stay at the village as late as 9pm; students who had turned seventeen and therefore come of age could stay until eleven. CJ had walked the path, with friends and alone, many times, and had never thought about it twice.

Which was why Malfoy's stupefy caught him so completely by surprise. He felt his arms snap to his side , his jaw clamp shut and his entire body fall like a log, straight and hard.

He felt himself being levitated. His breathing came fast, and he wanted desperately to turn to see if anybody, anybody at all had seen this, but he doubted it. Malfoy was nothing if not careful, and he found himself being spirited into a nearby cave.

"Well, my young friend…so careless, tut, tut…I would punish you properly if I had the time, but alas, there is none." Malfoy's voice was like slime oozing in his ears. "Instead I must do what is needed, and then be gone quickly, before anyone realizes I am here, least of all my useless son."

_Worth a hundred of you._ CJ thought darkly.

He felt himself being bound tightly, magical ropes that hurt, cutting in to his skin. But it was not Malfoy who tied them. A wizard he didn't know, long on brawn and clearly short on brains to have thrown himself in with Lucius was responsible for this torment.

"Now, boy…I know you must remember what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a cruciatus curse." Malfoy purred. "So as I remove the stupefy, I want you to think carefully about any sort of yelling, or screaming. As my son can tell you, I am not known for my kindness."

_Like I'd forgotten. _The memory of the white hot agony he'd suffered at the hands of his father and this man came back to him. But of course there was no way for him to indicate that he was in understanding of what was requested. He could only blink.

But Malfoy must have assumed his compliance; the stupefy was removed and CJ took a deep, heaving breath, free of constriction. He did not, however, speak.

"Not entirely without brains, I see." Malfoy smirked. He nodded to his accomplice. "Sit him up, Goyle."

CJ felt himself being place in position. His hands were brought forward. And though it took a second, he realized with horror as he stared in to the blue eyes of Lucius Malfoy, that another unbreakable vow was about to be forced upon him.


	37. Ch 37 The Final Countdown pt 2

April 12

From the Diary of CJ Diggory:

Note to my brother Cedric, whose voice I have heard trying to tell me not to kill myself. I wish you hadn't. If I had ended it earlier, it would have been so much cleaner.

Not only am I still bound to my fate, my time has shrunk and it happened in such a way that I managed to piss off nearly everyone I care about, and get myself into as much trouble as humanly possible. Like cashing out isn't bad enough; I'm going to be cashing out with everyone angry at me. Okay, not _angry_, _disappointed. _Like that's better.

I was captured by Malfoy while walking back towards Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. He had some _amendments_ to my unbreakable vow. Namely, instead of having until the exact date of my birthday, I have until the stroke of midnight on April 18th. Which is only week away from today. Oh, and of course there was a caveat that I couldn't tell anybody about that vow, either. Or why I was even there.

But Malfoy wasn't satisfied with just amending the vow…oh, no. He left me stupefied in a cave, on some kind of timed jinx, and proceeded to pour half a bottle of firewhiskey over me. For one horrible second I actually thought he was going to set me on fire. Foolish, of course, because clearly he needs me alive to fulfill my _duties_. He also sent some sort of spell over me that made me feel as if I'd had several drinks.

Well, you can imagine what happened. I passed out; when I came to and the spell had passed I felt hung over, stunk of alcohol, and was over five hours past curfew. I stumbled out of the cave and ran nearly in to the search party that had been sent out to find me.

Ugly doesn't begin to describe the scene that followed. Miss Shell was there…they'd gotten her and not George when they'd firecalled the house, and she was so angry she couldn't speak. And there were lectures from McGonagall and Professor Malfoy, who was actually white-lipped. It was Healer Morgainne who pointed out that in my condition the lectures were pretty useless, and I was whisked off to the infirmary.

Of course, what it looked like to them was that I had celebrated my success on the Quidditch field a little too hard, gotten shit-faced drunk and wandered off in to a cave causing massive alarm when I didn't return after curfew. To make matters worse, I felt like total crap just from what Malfoy had done to me, not to mention the whole curse problem, and I proceeded to throw up over half of the people yelling at me.

Which really set the mood the next day when George showed up, absolutely stunned and looking at me utterly disappointed_._ I swear I really wished I was dead in that moment. He set in on a long lecture, and he was trying to be fair, and kept asking me if I didn't have _anything _to say to explain my behavior?

Well, what _could _I say? I mean, I could hardly explain what had happened. And that whole throat constricting thing started happening, that I usually get when I am even thinking about speaking about the vow. And the less I said, the angrier he got.

But that wasn't the worst. He was getting all het up, and waving his arms, and he got a little close, and I flinched backwards. It was instinct…that and the result of being recently attacked by Malfoy. But the look on his face…the shock and the _hurt_ at my reaction. And he said to me in the saddest voice I'd ever heard:

_CJ, after all this time do you really believe that I'd __**hit**__ you?_

Well, that was pretty much that. I cost the house five hundred points, and effectively the house cup. I have detention for the rest of the year and my Hogsmeade privileges are revoked. Oh, and Miki dumped me, of course, because I had left her with a promise to get her sweater and instead had ended up getting drunk and abandoning her in the café.

Naturally, Alf and Teddy and Eileen have tried to get me to talk to them, and I finally blurted out that I wanted them all to go away and leave me alone, because I didn't need anybody.

Not true; I need them desperately, but I cannot give them the answers they want and I just can't keep listening to them try and help me. So they're pissed at me too. Tomorrow we go home, and I already know I'm grounded. I'm not even going to be allowed to go in to the store to help with the fireworks, which in fact is probably the smartest thing Dad ever did but he doesn't even understand why.

To say that my outlook is pretty damned bleak right now is an understatement.

I just hope I can patch things up a _little _before it all ends.

WWWWWWW

CJ looked up from the bench that he'd isolated himself on. He knew Alf and Teddy were inside joking around; he knew after the nasty blow up he had with them yesterday he probably was not welcome. They would be heading home on the train shortly, and he wasn't looking forward to the trip, or to his reception. Everyone would have had a right to be mad at him, of course, if he actually had been such a dip shit as it looked like he had been. And the fact that he couldn't explain that he HADN'T been a moron wasn't making anything better.

"Is this seat taken?" Eileen didn't wait for him to answer but plunked herself down. "I assume it's not reserved for another silent faced recluse."

"Shut up."

"Witty, CJ." She tossed her hair behind her. "And I'll tell you what I told Teddy when he was having issues, you can't get rid of me…any of us, really…no matter how much you try." She looked him over carefully. "Does this have something to do with that thing you had us all researching for you that you couldn't talk about, that you swore to us was over?"

The constricting started in his throat, and CJ felt his pulse racing; he just looked at Eileen in horror.

"Right. I thought so. I said as much to Alf, too, but he wasn't sure. Deny it all you will, but I know." She looked over the fields, and kept speaking slowly. "I miss the group, you know. The days when it was just the four of us against everyone. I know I'm as guilty of it as anyone, since we've kind of paired off. Although now it's ONLY me who's paired off." She glanced at him sideways. "Do you still remember that dream you told me about once?"

Did he? He wished he could forget it, stupid mirage that strung him along for far too long. "Yeah, right piece of shite that was. Teddy is still mooning over Taylor, not Victoire, and you and Alf aren't exactly heading for wedding bells." He snorted. "It was a stupid, cruel dream."

"Cruel?" She asked, drawing the world out slowly, savoring it almost. "You know, I don't believe you ever did tell me who you were there with, CJ." He didn't take the bait…at the time he'd had the dream he had yet to meet Liv. "But no reason to think you couldn't work for George someday…I know that was part of it. He might be mad at you right now, CJ, but surely you know he loves you?"

CJ just let out a long exhale, almost too feeble to be a sigh. "Yeah, I know. It's what makes it so bloody awful."

Eileen just nodded, thinking she understood him. "I know it seems impossible right now, but it will pass, you know. George will trust you again, though you'll have to earn that. It's not like it would have been with your father, at least. He'd have killed you."

_A better option right now._ But he managed a wry smile at her. "Thanks for trying, Ei." He spotted Teddy and Alf heading towards them; to his shock they were also levitating his trunk towards the bench.

"What?" Alf said, with raised eyebrows. "Did you think we'd make you go back in to get it?"

Teddy crossed his arms. "Try as you might, CJ, you will never be rid of us."

Tears stung his eyes. They didn't know, and wouldn't know until it was too late, what they meant to him. "I don't deserve you lot."

"Quite probably. But you have us anyway." Alf nudged him. "C'mon, let's head over to the train."

WWWWWWW

FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY

April 17th

My last days with my family, still being punished for something I did, but didn't really do, and just wishing to find some way to make it better. Because it's coming to a head tonight.

George is being very serious and stern…I can see right now how bloody freaky it must have been when Gramps would get mad. He's not unkind, but he's not been relenting, either, until I can explain myself. Which of course is never. Miss Shell is being VERY kind to me, which makes me feel even more of a heel. I've been very quietly helping with Freddo and the girls (at least they're not mad at me) and she more subtly tries to get me to talk about this whole thing. And of course I can't.

In any event, thinking about what I have to do and the best way to do it, I realized I need to leave tonight; or more accurately early tomorrow morning. I don't want to die here. I can't bear the thought of them finding my body; of them living in this house tainted with my memory. Besides, something… stupid vows…_something_ is pulling me towards the store. Yes, it will happen there, but before it can happen there I need to make sure there is no suspicion. They will have to think I have run away, but not to London, not to Diagon Alley.

I have laid plans, I think. I believe they will work. And in the end, they will forgive me. I know they love me…I know that's the only reason they are so angry about my apparent stupidity. They care about me. And it all makes it so much worse. But I am just so tired of all of this.

I wished for one good day before I died. And I got it, that day on the Quidditch field. But at what price?

WWWWWWW

"It's stuffy as heck in here." Ricky observed, carefully packing away fireworks in the specially spelled boxes.

George forced a smile from where he was sorting products in the appropriate order. "Indeed. Quite unseasonably warm for April. Must be nearly eighty five degrees outside."

"And humid." Alf added, huffing out his breath so his bangs rose up. He looked sideways at his father. "Another pair of hands would be nice…we could definitely finish up tomorrow then." He timidly suggested.

Their eyes met, Alf's slightly pleading and George's not unkind but firm. "Not until he can come up with some plausible explanation for what happened, Alf, or just bloody well talk to me. You know I'm not unreasonable."

Alf understood of course. He knew his father wanted nothing more than to relent with CJ, but hell, CJ was making it damn near impossible. It was like he wanted this anger being generated around him. CJ had done a good job of pissing Alf off as it was; couldn't he see that Alf just wanted to help? Even if he didn't think he could tell Dad, you could always tell your brother, couldn't you?

Whatever there was to tell, of course, which they still had no clue about. All Alf knew was that one moment CJ was fine, stone cold sober and getting a jacket for his girlfriend, and five hours later there was hell to pay when CJ didn't show up for the walk back to the school. Man, he didn't think he'd ever seen Miki so pissed!

Not that he'd thought anything about it at the time. Not really. He'd just assumed that CJ had gotten held up at the castle for some reason when he'd gone back there. Maybe something was up with one of the younger kids? Or maybe he'd run afoul of old Filch and gotten detention? Or, one of the hippogriffs was ready to give birth; he knew that Hagrid would have been able to lure CJ away from all other thoughts with that. It never occurred to him that CJ would have broken the rules in any way.

None of it made sense. Didn't then, didn't now. "It's just not logical, Dad." He said, and not for the first time. "Something else is up."

"I know that." George admitted. "This just isn't CJ at all, but he's not giving us anything to go on to help him with."

Ricky had been watching their banter back and forth, his brow creased in worry. "I know the way he was talking the day of the match, it almost seemed like he didn't expect to be around us much longer. Like he was leaving."

George chewed that over. "Hm. I wonder…" George sighed. "Perhaps he got wind of some threats that Kingsley Shacklebolt has made recently. But surely he wouldn't believe that?"

Alf had other ideas. "He's been talking about Cedric. A lot, Dad. Said he was hoping to go visit his grave at some point, said that he needed to."

"I'd be happy enough to take him if he'd just ask." George said quietly. "Even if he is still grounded."

Ricky looked up from the last box he'd just set aside. "D'you think this has something to do with that framed photo his father gave him? Maybe it's messing with his head in some way?"

THAT got both Alf and George's attention; George's eyes widened, and he rubbed his chin. "That…is not badly thought out, Ricky. Though your father thought he'd spelled it pretty carefully to send off alarms if it generated any sort of magic."

"Yeah, but Diggory's been in Eastern Europe, right, Dad?" Alf pointed out. "It's possible it might be some sort of rare, exotic curse that he would have missed."

"Hm." George sat back. "Well, it's worth looking in to, anyway. CJ's not going to say anything to us, it's clear, so do you think you can manage to spirit away that frame? We might have Bill run some more tests."

Alf felt relieved just knowing that they had something, anything, to go on. "I'll find a way." He promised. Then he looked around. "Dad, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were ready to ship these things tonight."

George winked at him. "Not quite tonight." He looked from Alf to Ricky. "You lot keep it quiet, but I'm shipping day after tomorrow. Top secret."

"Way to go, Dad." Alf said with great awe. "A whole month under schedule."

"Wicked." Ricky agreed. "Even Dad'd be impressed, I bet."

"But you're not to tell him." George reminded him. "All the better to impress him later, kiddo."

WWWWWWW

Dinner was not an entirely somber affair. Well, it never could be, really; not with Freddo chattering away, and the twins engaging in their own form of baby food terrorism. CJ was subdued, and Alf kept trying to act as normal as possible. George sighed mentally; he just wanted things to really be normally. Why, oh why, wouldn't' CJ talk to him?

He headed into his downstairs workroom shortly after dinner; CJ quietly agreeing to do the dishes. That was Alf's cue, George knew, to slip in to CJ's room and snatch that frame. He hoped that however unlikely it sounded, that Ricky had been on to something there.

He was surprised and hopeful when CJ looked in on him. "I've finished the dishes." He said, almost shyly.

George managed a smile. "Thank you." And on instinct, he reached out towards the clearly troubled young man.

CJ hesitated, clearly surprised, and then came forward, tentatively leaning towards George; George immediately wrapped him in as tight a hug as he could manage. He felt fear, then, though he didn't know why. Just that in some way CJ was standing on the side of a cliff, and George wasn't at all sure he could reach him before he went over. He rubbed the boy's back, trying to convey that he still loved him, that he just wanted to know what was going on, even as he found himself grappling for speech.

He found it, finally. "CJ, won't you please tell me what's wrong?" He pleaded, not letting go.

He felt CJ's breath hitch, like he was fighting back tears so badly he couldn't breathe, and George just kept rubbing the boy's back in encouragement. Finally he spoke, almost choking out the words. "Tomorrow. Okay? Just...I can't tonight, Dad. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is fine." George almost wanted to weep with relief. He didn't quite understand why it had to wait until tomorrow, but clearly CJ was in quite a state and he deserved a chance to compose himself. He hugged him even more tightly, just glad to know that they would be getting through this. "You do know I love you?" He added.

"I love you too." That came out much easier, much more clearly than his choked words from earlier. Almost reluctantly, CJ pulled away, wiping at his face. "I'm sorry this happened like this." He added, looking at George wistfully.

"Me too. But we'll work it all out, tomorrow." George promised, watching with relief as CJ walked away to head on to bed. He still felt uneasy; he worried about what CJ would tell him. But at least he knew that they were close to getting answers, and that was what he would have to believe in.

WWWWWWW

_Dad...I am so sorry about everything. I know that by the time you will be reading this you will think that I lied to you. But I didn't, really...I knew that you would find answers to everything that has been plaguing me "tomorrow" and once you find those answers, you will know why I couldn't talk to you today. I just really needed to tell you that I loved you before...before I did what I had to do. And I needed to feel that you still loved me as well. It makes everything so much easier now. Not your intent, of course, but then there wasn't anything that you could have said that would have steered me from this path. I was set upon it from birth really, though I didn't know it for a long time. But everything good that has happened to me, and what happiness I have had, has come from you._

_Be watchful of Alf. This is going to bother the heck out of him; he'll blame himself for not knowing what was happening. But I thought for a long time I could beat it, and then when I realized I couldn't, all I wanted was to be as happy as I could, for as long as I could. That is what Alf saw, because it was what I wanted him to see._

_Tell everyone how much their love meant to me. I am sorry it had to end this way, but I had a family for five years, and that's more than I ever hoped for._

_Love, CJ_

WWWWWWW

CJ woke up at four am. There was a hush in the entire place that spoke of the peaceful time just before dawn. The only sound CJ could detect was the steady beating of his own heart and the sound of his breath, each one of which cost him an effort.

He gave a wry smile as he pulled out his muggle flashlight, left over from camping, and was grateful to see it worked; thank heavens George had taken pains to make the house somewhat friendly to muggle electronics, for Miss Shell's sake.

Instead of the subtle blue aura of a magical cast, CJ found himself in the harsh whites of muggle illumination. His room, fancifully painted by Miss Shell just before Freddo had been born, seemed almost menacing in the dancing shadows. CJ sighed; he would miss this room, miss the expression of love it represented from a woman who had been as close to a mother as he'd ever had. And he then looked down at Tang, the furry pygmy puff that Dad had given him more than four years ago. One of the first real gifts he'd ever received, the first real kindness he'd ever known from a living human being.

CJ didn't wake Tang. Puffs rarely lived longer than four years, and he wondered quietly if Tang would pass away once he realized CJ was gone. And taking Tang seemed out of the question; CJ would not survive the next twenty four hours, but no reason to kill Tang in the process.

It had been hell living with knowing he had angered his family these past days, and knowing they would be angry at him still for another day didn't help. But what had to be done, had to be done, and he was not about to back out now. And unfortunately, for the next few hours they would again think he was foolish and insensitive, and reckless.

It had come as a harsh blow last summer when he'd come slap up against the fact that unbreakable vows really could not be broken. He remembered the numbing cold that went through his veins, the choking feeling in his throat and way his mouth went desert-dry at the knowledge. But not anymore. Now, he kept himself detached from his reality. That the deadline had moved up had thrown him, but really, he supposed it was better this way.

It was all very simple: by midnight tonight, he would either blow up Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes or die.

And not, he understood, a simple death. As his grandfather had innocently described, a horrible, agonizing, painful death, tearing himself apart as he fought the curse. Not what he had in mind, thank you very much. He'd studied it thoroughly, and there were people who opted suicide over death by breaking an unbreakable. Successfully.

"I won't hurt this family." CJ whispered to nobody in particular.

Of course, he wasn't stupid. He knew he'd be hurting them no matter what; he did know that George and Miss Shell cared about him and would miss him when he was gone. He held his diary, which now also enclosed a sealed letter to George. It was important that they not realize his sacrifice too soon; it couldn't be stopped, and the last thing he wanted was for George to watch him die a terrible death. CJ managed a snicker at having been placed in Slytherin.

He placed a different letter on his pillow. They would spend the day looking in the wrong place, looking around Cedric's grave, George no doubt intending to chew his ass out once he got hold of him. He hoped George wouldn't be too hard on himself when he realized the truth of it. But it had to be easier than the alternative. It had to be now, though. If he hung around all day he was afraid he'd back out, or panic and do something foolish. Besides, it would take him most of the day to get to London in the muggle fashion, and he could hardly sneak to the store until after dark.

He shuddered. There it was again. That driving, deep seated desire to kill himself _in the store_. Not anywhere else. No, it had to be there, it had to be after closing, he had to push himself as close to his deadline as possible. And as long as they didn't discover the diary too soon...CJ frowned. That was a danger, even as carefully as he'd planned things out.

A thought came to him: Ricky. Ricky who had been so cool lately, who had grown up to be a decent kid, right enough. Ricky was so excited because his Dad was taking him to see Puddlemere United today. He knew Victoire was spending her break visiting Liv and that Aunt Fleur was working today. Yes, that was the perfect place to send the diary, so it would get to George, but not before it was too late.

He let the light out, and as quietly as he could he opened up the window. He'd transfigured an old robe into a rope earlier, wanting to make sure that there were no alarms placed on his room to indicate magical activity. He shinnied gracefully down the rope, and headed out to the back porch first.

Behind a screened closet, he could see his broom, shut in with the others. He was fairly certain that if he opened the door some kind of alarm would sound…George was certainly creative enough to have the valuables secured. Crossing his fingers, CJ took his wand and whispered a spell. Within seconds, his broom shrank, smaller, smaller, and smaller, until it was miniscule. With some effort he levitated it, not outside of the screened closet, but in to a flowerpot on a top shelf. He wasn't taking his broom, after all, but he wanted his family to think that he had.

Then he detoured over to Uncle Harry's back yard. Harry's owl was resting on his perch, and CJ called out in a whisper to it. The snow white bird regarded him thoughtfully, but if the earliness of the day surprised him you'd never know. He took the package, with the instructions to deliver it to Ricky Weasley, first checking for him at Hogwarts, and then dropping it off at Shell Cottage even if Ricky weren't there. That, he knew, would ensure the package wouldn't get there too early.

He watched as the bird took off into the barely-lifting darkness. Then, resolutely refusing to look behind, he sprinted across the countryside. He was an athlete, and it was an easy run across the fields, then through the woods that bordered them. He skirted a pond, and came out by the main road in Muggle Godric's hollow. It didn't take him long to get to the bus station, and CJ walked at a more leisurely pace to the ticket machine. There was a bus at 5:10 that would take him to the village of Barrow-in-Furness, where he could catch the first of three trains on his convoluted trip to London. He'd converted some galleons in to muggle money over Christmas, so he should be alright on that account.

The bus driver didn't look at him, and the ride took him through the countryside, just waking up for the day. George probably wouldn't be getting up for another hour or so; by that time CJ would be in another town, on another muggle conveyance, and far away from every clue he'd left behind that would all point north. He sighed, and settled in; he supposed one could look at it as an adventure, after all. Once, in fact, that is exactly what Albus Dumbledore did.

WWWWWWW

George felt chipper when he got up that morning. He'd forced his worries about CJ into the back of his mind...they would talk today, CJ had promised. And he was at the point where, to encourage that, he wanted to bring CJ in to the shop. After all, Bill was taking Ricky out to a game today, so he needed the help.

"You're happy." Michelle smiled, piling Katie in to the high chair beside her twin.

"And why not?" George kissed her, and tweaked each daughter's chin. Freddo grinned at him, laughing, and he planted a loud, wet kiss on his son's head.

"Gah! Dad messy!" Freddo giggled.

George looked over his shoulder to the stairs. "Alf? CJ? Breakfast is up."

Alf's door opened, and George heard him walk a cross the hall and knock.

He turned back to his chair and sat down, picking up the Prophet. He smirked a little at a rather supercilious picture of Kingsley pontificating about the situation in Eastern Europe. "Mindless blowhard." George muttered, but with a smile on his face; he certainly had the best of Kingsley this time.

"Dad?" Alf's voice was strained, calling from the upper level. "DAAAAAAAAAADD!" Thundering footsteps pounded down the stairs, and they all turned to look as Alf flew in to the kitchen, face pale, eyes wide, and hair flying. He was waving an envelope madly.

"CJ's GONE!"


	38. Ch 38 All Hands on Deck

Alf would forever remember the hours immediately after they discovered the disappearance of CJ in the same way one might remember a movie that was watched out of focus, and backwards. He could never be sure what had happened, what he thought happened, and what happened later that got confused in his memory. But once the dust settled, after what seemed a thousand frantic firecalls, whirls of owls, crying babies, arrivals and departures, he found himself in his house, with Teddy and Eileen, waiting to see if by some chance CJ returned home.

Harry had been the first person George reached, and immediately a conversation began about sending people to Cedric's grave, way up in the north of England. Harry read over the letter CJ had left behind, and pointed out that its rather cryptic wording might mean CJ was headed towards any place that Cedric was associated with. Which would mean that they would want to check out Hogwarts, as well, and also the home Cedric grew up in, near The Burrow. Alf reminded George that CJ also associated Cedric, via a ghostly presence, with the now-abandoned house where he'd lived with his father. So there were three places that needed immediate attention.

Teddy had come over with Harry, and George had grilled both he and Alf about their last few weeks at school, for any clues on top of that cryptic letter. Michelle, meanwhile, had reached Eileen's parents, who were spending the Easter break with relatives not far from Hogwarts; they allowed Eileen to come down to help. She had provided much the same answers Alf and Teddy had; CJ had been happier this year than she'd ever remembered seeing him, up until the incident after the Quidditch match. In past years, they had been aware of CJ battling some mysterious demon that he kept hidden deeply, and they'd helped him as much as they could.

George of course had been aware of that. He had been convinced, because of information from Percy, that it involved St. Mungo's in some way. Percy, freshly arrived, suggested they stake out the hospital as well; Hermione went to contact Bill's wife Fleur. And with arrangements made to get most of the kids to The Burrow, leaving Teddy, Eileen and Alf waiting for whatever might happen; news from CJ or, most welcome, CJ himself.

As Miss Shell departed, kissing Alf quickly, on her way to Hogwarts, the silence settled over the house in an almost eerie way, after the hustle and hullabaloo that had just been happening there. Eileen got up and poured the four of them glasses of iced tea, though nobody made a move to touch the glasses for a few seconds, and the tall vessels sweated in the uncharacteristic humidity.

"I knew something wasn't right." Alf berated himself, not for the first time.

"We all knew, Alf. That whole stunt with the firewhiskey just wasn't like CJ." Teddy tried to talk Alf out of self-loathing.

"It's more than that." Eileen added. "I'm wondering how happy CJ was, exactly, these past few months. Or if he was just making us all believe he was happy?"

"If he was acting, he did a pretty damned good job." Alf huffed.

"Slytherin." Teddy reminded them.

Silence settled in once more. Teddy was the first to reach for the glass, and then he grimaced. "How much sugar did you put in here, Leenie?"

"It's sweet tea." She blinked in surprise. "How else would I make it?"

Alf forced a chuckle. Having lived in America, and knowing Eileen was from the southern areas, he understood the reason behind the tea flavor. And in a show of loyalty, he picked up his own glass, and drank it all down. It was sweeter than he'd have preferred, like a whole tub of honey had been drowned in the beverage, but he refused to mention that. "I think it's perfect."

Teddy snorted. Eileen drummed her fingers on the table.

Alf sat forward abruptly. "His diary!"

Eileen and Teddy both just turned to look at him, and Alf continued, pushing up from the table. "I gave him a diary a few years back, I think he still writes in it sometimes." He made for the stairs, Teddy and Eileen following. "Maybe I can find it."

Teddy encouraged him as they ploughed ahead. "You found that letter I wrote that I thought I'd hid, I bet you can find anything."

Eileen followed both boys, still frowning. "If he ran away, wouldn't he have taken it with him?"

Alf stopped so abruptly at the top of the stairs Teddy nearly slammed in to his back. "CJ did NOT run away!" He spoke with great finality, two red spots on his face, and then he turned around and continued on to CJ's room.

Eileen raised her eyebrows at Teddy, who just shrugged.

They came in together, and Alf set about pulling at the area round the mattress. In the little cage next to the bed, Tang was making a worried sounding whistling noise, and Eileen came forward to sooth him. "This little guy's really agitated." She noticed. "Too bad he can't talk."

Teddy was pulling books out of a book case. "Maybe he didn't run away, if he left Tang."

Alf stopped mid-tug, a pillow in his hand, huffing lightly. "He didn't run away. CJ wouldn't, guys. Not from dad, not for anything. No matter how much trouble he's in. It's got to be something more than that!"

Eileen just reached over to squeeze Alf's shoulder. "I think I'd rather think that he just ran away than the alternative." She pointed out. "Because if it is more than that, if this goes back to whatever curse he's fighting, then I think I'm scared for him more than if he just got stupid for a moment and took off."

Alf gave a little moan and sat on the bed. "I know, Ei. That's what makes it so bad. I just know he didn't run away, and I know it must be something ugly that made him leave. And...I...should have _known_!" Alf groaned again and folded his head down in to his hands.

Teddy shook his head, sitting up on the desk, as Eileen sat beside Alf, and put her arm around his shoulders gently. "Look, Alf," He said. "None of us are in a house with each other. Remember how long I was able to hide what was really wrong with me from you lot? Part of that was because none of you really got to see me for more than a couple of hours at a time. And, like I said, he was sorted in to Slytherin. I know that doesn't mean dishonest and dark, anymore, but it does mean cunning and deception. CJ's very smart. If he really intended to deceive us all, he could."

"I know." Alf looked up at Teddy with pained eyes. "But he's _my _brother. This shouldn't be happening."

Eileen sighed. "C'mon now, let's keep looking for that diary. And maybe we'll hear CJ stumbling home, with an explanation that will make sense, any minute now. Anyway, we need to keep doing something."

So together the three friends systematically tore the room apart, hoping for some sign of what was going on in CJ's troubled head.

WWWWWWW

The environment the morning of a big Quidditch game was always vibrant and wild, an almost carnival atmosphere. So Bill Weasley had made a point of arriving early with his son Ricky for the match, which was Puddlemere United against the Chudley Cannons. Ricky, as usual, was a massive ball of energy, darting too and fro with alacrity that would have frightened Bill if he hadn't witnessed how much his son had matured these past months.

"This is _wicked!" _Ricky exclaimed, coming back to Bill after managing to obtain an autograph from a former Chudley Cannon player who had made an appearance. "I can't believe were _here_!"

Bill fought back a grin, and then gave in and smiled full tilt anyway. He spent so much time trying to be serious with his kids, and so little time really enjoying them. And he remembered too well what a rare treat it was when he got to spend time with his Dad one on one. With five brothers it had been hard for Arthur to perhaps be as hands-on as he'd have wished.

Blushing, Bill admitted to himself that there was no such excuse for him not to have spent more time with his son, just the two of them. Something that he hadn't really realized until George had showed him that letter over Christmas. He'd been shocked that Ricky had written George, mainly because he couldn't ever remember Ricky writing to him. To Fleur, yes, as did Victoire, but neither of his kids ever seemed to think of just sending him a note.

That had changed over Christmas, somehow. Somehow he and Ricky had bonded during the holiday, and Ricky had started sending him a letter now and then. Never long, but always a funny anecdote or tidbit that he found amusing. For the first time, he began to see his son as the man he would grow up to be. And Ricky, for all that he could be potentially mischief making, and for all his occasional lack of attention span, was really a good kid.

Without thought, Bill reached over to the omnocular salesperson, and bought one while Ricky was distracted by a juggler managing miniature dragons that breathed fire. As he tugged on his son's sleeve, and handed him the gift, Ricky's face lit up. "I expect you to share those!" Bill cautioned, with a wink.

"Absolutely!" Ricky beamed, trying them out. "Whoa...I can see up the nostrils on that hippogriff!"

Bill rubbed his head, and motioned towards the stadium entrance. "C'mon, I know it's early, but if we get our seats we might be able to see them practice."

He didn't offer to Ricky his hope, which was that Oliver Wood had arranged for a tour of the locker areas. Bill had written to him, and that was how they'd gotten tickets, so he really didn't have a right to expect more. After all, Oliver had been but a first year when Bill graduated, and had been much closer with Fred and George, who had been on the teams he captained, or Charlie, who had been Oliver's captain. Still, there was a chance he might have done something extra for them.

Bill's heart raced as the person checking tickets looked him over. "Mr. Bill Weasley? I've had a request to bring you to the offices as soon as you arrived."

Bill winked down at Ricky again, who was rendered speechless as they followed in past a door marked "private" and into the Puddlemere offices. His son looked up at him with wide eyes.

"D'you think Oliver Wood will come out to see us, Dad?" He asked, in an awed voice.

And before Bill could say anything, Oliver was there.

"Thank you so much..." Bill began, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude.

Oliver held up his hand, stopping Bill, who was beginning to note the strange look on the star Keeper's face. Oliver looked from Ricky to Bill, and took a deep breath.

"Bill, I wanted be able to give you a tour, but circumstances..."

Bill started to protest... "I understand, Oliver...Ricky just getting to meet you is enough..."

"NO!" Oliver nearly exploded, and made a move as if he was going to tear out his hair. "Oi, Bill, George contacted me to get a hold of you...there's a family emergency, mate!"

Bill felt his world crumbling from under him. "My God, Oliver...what is it?" Ricky grasped on to his sleeve, leaning against him.

"CJ...George's adopted son, I gather...he's gone missing. George is frantic over the whole thing." Oliver continued. "Here...there's more information in the letter..." He handed over a bit of parchment that clearly had been owled over.

"I knew it!" Ricky gasped out. "I knew there was something else up with him!"

"Anyway..." Oliver continued, as Bill read through George's scribbled information, "The office is making arrangements for you to floo from here. I need to go out now...but as soon as the game is off, I'll head over to George's, see what I can do to help."

Bill felt a strange twist, the burden of the first born. He really hated to let his son down like this, but he had to help George in his time of need. "Thanks, Oliver. I really appreciate what you've done."

"Another time, then." Oliver smiled down at Ricky, though his own face betrayed the worry he felt on behalf of a fellow father. And with a little salute at them both, he took off for the locker area.

"Ricky..." Bill began, preparing for the disappointment, but he looked down in to his son's face, and saw nothing but worry back there.

"Of course we have to go, Dad." Ricky said at once. "Uncle George needs you. I understand that."

Bill smiled at his son in relief. "Thanks, kid." He put his hand on his head, and then read over the note from George once more. "It says most of the kids are over at the Burrow with your grandparents..." He mused. "Your sister, of course, is still visiting Liv..."

At the implication, Ricky did protest. "I bet Alf is still in Godric's Hollow, can't I go there, Dad?" He looked imploringly at his father. "I don't belong with the little kids."

Bill was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Actually I had another idea." He looked down at his son, and put a hand on each shoulder, staring in to his eyes. "When your Uncle Ron was in need, when he had nowhere to go and wasn't sure where he'd be welcome, he came to my house, you know. If CJ should opt to seek sanctuary, as it were, at Shell Cottage, someone really ought to be there.."

"You want me to stay home with Mum?" Ricky's brow furrowed.

"Not with your mother...she is on patrol at St. Mungo's." Bill squeezed his son shoulder's hard. "I'm asking you to stay home alone, in case CJ should turn up there."

Ricky's jaw dropped. "You're leaving me home alone? By myself?"

"That is the usual definition of alone, Rick." Bill quipped dryly. And then he continued. "You're twelve years old, and more mature than I've maybe given you credit for. I need to help George, but somebody should be at Shell Cottage as a precaution. I'm trusting you not to burn down the house. Can you do that?"

"Alright." Ricky looked slightly awed. "What if I need you for some reason?"

"You have my permission to floo through to Godric's Hollow or the Burrow, whichever seems to make the most sense to you. In either case, they'll have a way to reach me." Bill felt better knowing that he'd covered all possibilities. "C'mon, Rick. The family must be in full crisis mode immediately...which means all hell is about to break lose!"

WWWWWWW

CJ, stifling a yawn, tumbled out of the super-local commuter train he'd taken in to London, and blinked around King's Cross station. He was glad he'd ended up here; it was one of the few places in Muggle London that he was familiar with.

Stumbling out in to daylight, he gasped a little at the heat. Why, it must be a full out eighty-five degrees, and humid as hell; the crowds around him were clearly as baffled as he was. Every-day muggle Brits, wearing suits and jumpers and panting like dogs, and here it was only April. CJ rolled up his sleeves, feeling sweat trickle down his back. It had been humid in those dream's he'd had, he thought to himself. Those dreams where he was actually blowing up the store.

_I won't do it...I won't!_

He turned through the streets, along the paths he'd memorized which would take him to the Leaky Cauldron. It was a longer walk than expected, things on muggle maps, he realized, were not as close as they appeared to be on paper. And it was approaching 3pm by the time he got outside the door that led to the bar, that led to the portal in to Wizard London.

He paused. He had to get through without being questioned. He didn't think George would have put out the notice to the Wizard authorities; if he knew George, the man was going to rely on family to get things done. Still, it wasn't impossible that a message might have gotten through to old Tom.

So he pulled over into the shadows, leaning unobtrusively against the wall of a nearby shop. A noisy family passed close to him; they were so perfectly muggle that he pegged them for Wizards at once. And as they headed in to the bar, the lot of them arguing about a recent Quidditch match (though they pretended to call it football, he knew that the Cannons were no football team), he followed along just beyond them, right in to the Cauldron.

CJ surreptitiously rolled a stink bomb in to a corner as they entered, and he passed along the back of the group as a harried Tom came forward with menus. The bomb went off, with a little spark and a cloud of foul odor, and everyone turned their attention to that, Tom yelling at one of the other kids even as he held a towel up on his face, approaching the offending item. And CJ slipped out into the alley unobserved.

He used Cedric's wand, one he'd had in possession for some time, though he'd told nobody about it, to open the passageway, and he moved through. He'd been aware that it might be possible to trace his own wand, but nobody would think to trace Cedric's.

The area was quiet just along the arch, with the main road ahead leading in to the splendors of Diagon Alley. Those were not for him at the moment, however, and he turned to walk down instead the dark, twisting menace of Knocturn Alley.

The place was a shell of what it once was, though it still had its dangers. He knew about the sticking-stones, fierce bits of pavement that would grab your ankles, from Alf, and so he disabled them. And there were some stores that were still active, especially after dark. But one that he headed in to had been abandoned for some time. Several of the Slytherins knew of it; it was legend among seventh years, where they were said to gather for private trysts with girlfriends. A handy bit of info to find; he just hoped that nobody was taking advantage of it during the Easter holiday.

Lucky for him there, he thought. It was in fact abandoned, though sign of recent activity abounded in the forms of abandoned butterbeer bottles and other teen wizard paraphernalia. He tucked himself in to a corner, in a cloud of dust, letting himself be enveloped by the shadows, Cedric's wand drawn in case of an intruder. Though damned if he knew what he'd do if one found him.

He sat and waited, watchful and still. Wheezes closed at 7pm on Saturdays, and CJ figured he should give it until 7:30 to make sure Uncle Ron and everyone had left. If they hadn't already; CJ assumed that George would call out for reinforcements and that the family would be spread over the north, over the places that CJ might be assumed to have gone. But still, 7:30 was safe.

_I won't blow up the store. I won't._

He kept repeating that mantra to himself, although neither could he fully answer why he just didn't end it right now. He only knew that he needed to be in the store, to let things get as close to fulfillment as possible, or nothing would be right. Two different voices seem to shout over his thoughts, muddled as his mind was, and he squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear running down his face.

He would beat this. And in the end he hoped that George would maybe be just a little bit proud, that he'd had the resolve to go through with what he had to do.

Even if he would wish there was some other way.

WWWWWWW

"George? You okay?" Percy gave his shoulder a shake.

George turned from Cedric's too quiet grave. "Bloody hell, no I'm not, Perce!" George ran his fingers through his hair. "There's no bloody sign of my son, and no word from Hogwarts, from the old Diggory homestead near mum and dad, and nothing from the abandoned mansion CJ was raised in. Or, for that matter, St. Mungo's. He's been gone for at least eight hours, or possibly more, because I don't know WHEN he left, and I'm starting to feel like I'm completely missing the entire real story here!" He sank down on his knees on Cedric's grave and did the only thing that made sense to him at the moment.

"AAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!"

His scream echoed off the distant trees.

Perce came and crouched beside him, his face distraught. "It's my fault, George…this all goes back to Croatia, and I just can't remember it. But I should have…I should have."

That got George out of his funk, a little. "Shuttup." He said, glaring at Percy. "Whatever you learned, we can't get it back, and I'm okay with that. It doesn't excuse my not knowing what is going on with my own son."

Percy shook his head. "But George, he isn't…"

George moved to flying tackle his brother, and Percy, showing amazing strength, grabbed George's arms together and held them fast. "I don't mean you don't love him like a son. I mean that it's unreasonable for you to expect to be able to find some hidden damage done by Amos Diggory for the ELEVEN YEARS that he had control of CJ before you ever knew he existed." George quivered slightly, and turned away. "I'm serious, George. I've come to believe that whatever is going on here, is something even CJ may not be aware of. Or worse, something so terrible he couldn't even begin to fight it, not even with you." George sank down to the ground once more, and Percy sat next to him.

They were silent for a few moments, and then George looked around. "I don't know what to do next." He confessed.

There was a pop, and Bill apparated behind him. Percy sighed in relief. "Bill, we weren't sure we'd reach you."

"I dropped Ricky at Shell Cottage first, in case he shows there. Bill explained. "And then I stopped in at St. Mungos, Hogwarts, and the old Diggory estate to check in with folks. No sign of anything from them. George, do you have the letter CJ sent you?"

Mechanically, George handed it over, looking up to his oldest brother hoping that Bill could some how channel that omniscience his younger siblings had once credited him with.

"Why would CJ go to Shell Cottage?" Percy asked.

Bill shrugged. "Why did Ron, sixteen years ago?"

"Because he knew we'd thump him if he showed up at The Burrow, for abandoning Hermione and Harry." George said, lips twisting in to a pained smile.

"Oh, that makes sense…" Percy mumbled. Bill just glared at them as he read the letter. And his frown got deeper and harder.

"I don't like this." Bill muttered. "Not at all."

He read it out loud.

"_Dad…_

_I know you're going to be upset about this. I simply can't explain what's been going on in my life. What I do need to do is get closer to my brother, to find answers. Don't think I'm going to off myself, or anything…why would I do that? But I have to go to where Cedric used to be, maybe his grave or something, I don't know. I need to do that, and then all my problems will be solved._

_I know you're pretty angry with me right now. But tomorrow…tomorrow it will all be okay. I promise, with all that I have, that tomorrow you will understand._

_I just have to do something else today."_

Bill looked, with a pale face, at his brothers. "George, I've read a lot of notes with final bequests. This, sounds final."

George blinked up at Percy. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I think he is suicidal. Or expects to die. He doesn't say he's NOT going to off himself, he says he doesn't want YOU to think that…and then asks a rhetorical question, 'why would I do that?' It's the sort of wording you often see in suicide notes, or on the final bequests of dying wizards. And the concept of tomorrow…he doesn't say that he'll be doing anything tomorrow. Just that tomorrow, you'll understand." Bill chewed on his lower lip in frustration.

George lost what little color he had. "But what is it? What could be so terrible that he couldn't tell me, or Michelle, or SOMEBODY. Bill, _how could I ever understand this?"_

At that moment, George felt a deep warmth from one of the coins he wore. Hopefully he tore at the chain, but it wasn't CJ's coin calling to him. It was Alf.

Well, it must mean something, and at this point it was better than anything he had here. "Bill, will you stay here, in case…in case…"

"Of course." Bill soothed.

Likewise, Percy understood, and he got up with George. George gave Percy and imploring look. "I'm not sure I'm fit to apparate, Percy."

Percy draped an arm around him. "I'll get us there, George. Maybe the boys found something."

WWWWWWW

As soon as his father had dropped him off, Ricky Weasley had taken up a very important pose at the table, waiting for CJ to magically appear. That lasted about five minutes. Then he got restless and started pacing.

Of all the things his father might ask him to do, he must have known that what he'd requested was absolutely what Ricky would find hardest to comply with. To sit and wait? That simply wasn't in his blood, never had been.

He went outside, and paced there, watching the horizon. He remembered once Uncle George doing that, with Alf. That was when Alf had some maternal relatives after him, and the duo had been whisked to Shell Cottage, which remained the family safe house. He supposed it might make sense for CJ to show, then…the entire family knew that their place was the refuge, from whatever pursued them.

He sat on a fence, swinging his legs back and forth, the sound of the ocean behind him. Just ahead he could see the grave of Doby the house elf, who had helped save Uncle Harry, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. He knew those were supposed to be the bad old days, but he couldn't help thinking they must have been a little exciting too.

Then he remembered Uncle George talking about the days they-he and Fred-were cooped up at The Burrow. Days with a price on their head, when they couldn't even go in to their own store. Days upon days, only getting away occasionally to do a radio show with Lee Jordan.

"_And then things got really bad, and we ended up at Aunt Muriel's!" _George had told him.

Come to think of it, maybe it didn't sound like such an adventure after all.

A spot appeared in the distance, and Ricky watched it curiously. CJ was apparently on his broom…though how he'd gotten it out of a locked and alarmed broom cabinet was unexplained. Was this, possibly, his missing cousin?

No, not big enough to be CJ, he could see that now. Instead, it was an Owl. Uncle Harry's owl. Ricky leapt up, hoping that there was news, good news, that CJ was okay.

Then he saw the owl was carrying a package. He took the heavy parcel from the tired bird, and motioned towards their own owl perch. He looked down at the direction printed on the front.

"Mr. Ricky Weasley…Hogwarts…or Shell Cottage. (Hogwarts first)."

Peculiar instructions! Who would send him something and not know where to find him? Especially with Uncle Harry's owl?

He tore the packing paper off, and saw a bound book, a diary, one of the magic kinds that added pages at need, and which could be spelled to be something innocuous looking. He opened up the front cover.

_This is the Diary of CJ Diggory_

Heart thumping, he wondered if it was still spelled, or if he would be able to read it. But surely CJ hadn't expected him to be home today? Nor at Hogwarts, for that matter…he'd been boring the heck out of everyone who would listen about the Quidditch game.

_Maybe he didn't mean you to get it so quickly._

The thought came to him as surely as if someone were speaking to him. A little breeze seemed to lift the hair off the back of his neck, and he shivered. Holding the book outward, he opened it just slightly, and the breeze that he hadn't felt all day until a minute ago ruffled the pages, and then stopped, settling on one entry, about fifteen pages in.

Ricky started reading, skimming the shaky handwriting of the entry, dated some four years ago.

_Day three of what may be a new life. Or, roughly 1400 days left until I either die or find a way out of the mess I am now in._

_Oh, but let me explain…._

…_I endured I don't know how many more hours of pain. Never thought it would end, really; I actually thought he might kill me this time. Finally I was begging for death, or any kind of release. Which is what he wanted; after I was reduced to nothing, he had me make an unbreakable vow. Two of them, actually, witnessed by Malfoy. The first, being that I would never say a word of any vow to anybody, and the second, that I must destroy Weasley's Wizard Wheezes before my sixteenth birthday…._

Oh, HELL!

Ricky slammed the book shut and ran full tilt for the house. Grabbing the floo powder, he shouted at once, "Uncle George's House, GODRIC'S HOLLOW." And he stepped in to the green flames.

WWWWWWW

Alf, Teddy, and Eileen sat on the floor in the chaos that had been CJ's bedroom, Eileen holding Tang, Teddy absentmindedly tossing a snitch, and Alf just frowning, chin on his knees. They had looked everywhere, and still no diary. And it was nearly four in the afternoon…they were all of them despondent.

"Maybe he'll just come home." Eileen suggested wistfully.

At that moment there was thud from downstairs, the distinctive sound of the floo.

"CJ!" Alf moved so quickly it was as if he were defending against a Quaffle.

Teddy and Eileen followed, making for the stairs.

The lot of them came to an abrupt stop and tried not to look devastatingly disappointed as they saw Ricky dusting himself off from the floo. "Ugh, first time I've flooed by myself." Ricky muttered. Then he saw he had an audience, and he forgot cleaning for a moment.

"Alf! Alf, CJ sent me this…and I read this entry and…and…we need your Dad!"

Alf, overjoyed at the sight of the book, and confused as hell why CJ would have sent it to Ricky, snatched it away from him, pulling it over to the table. Eileen, CJ, and the still sooty Ricky gathered around.

"We've been looking for that for hours." Teddy informed him.

"It came by owl. I'm fairly certain he didn't mean for me to find it so quickly."

Alf went a milky pale as he read the same passage Ricky had. Then, shaking slightly, he skimmed quickly ahead, going towards the end, towards a recent entry. He pulled away a separate envelope addressed to George and read the last two entries. "Oh, bollocks…Ceej, oh, Ceej…" He groaned. Then, grasping his own coin, he held it tight, thinking mightily of his father, of his need to have him come home.

Over his shoulder, Teddy and Eileen were reading, as was Ricky, as this was an entry he hadn't seen. The three of them became shaken and subdued as well; Teddy, in what was a more rare trick for him lately, let his own skin become ashy and dull, and his hair a mousy brown, even as his eyes faded. Eileen fought tears.

Alf turned and half wrapped Ricky in a hug; Ricky had tears running down his face too, which Alf was kind enough not to mention. "You may have saved him, Rick."

"I just happened to be home." He protested, wiping at his eyes. "But Alf, if it's an unbreakable, what can be done?"

"I don't know. But Dad will."

They didn't have to wait long. Alf heard the arrival via apparition from outside, and ran to the door, to see his father, pale and scared, running along side Uncle Percy. He went to meet him, speaking quickly and handing over the diary as he did.

George had looked terrible when he arrived, and for a few seconds he looked horrifyingly worse. Then Alf saw something that would be etched in his mind forever. He saw his father pull together in seconds. George's color came back. He gave the diary to Percy.

"Perce…keep reading. That might jog your memory, and if anything else comes back to you, I need to know." He strode towards the house, becoming stronger and surer with each step.

"Dad?" Alf asked, confused by how suddenly _strong _his father was. "Dad, can you break an unbreakable?"

"No." George gave Alf a determined, thin smile, one that was part grimace and part threat to the world. "But you may be able to outsmart one…Perce, read to me the language of that curse again?"

Percy, now pale and enraged himself, complied, reading in a slightly shaky voice. _"…he had me make an unbreakable vow. Two of them, actually, witnessed by Malfoy. The first, being that I would never say a word of any vow to anybody, and the second, that I must destroy Weasley's Wizard Wheezes before my sixteenth birthday."_

"Okay. And we know that the date has been moved forward a bit…" A smile again crossed George's face, one that Alf knew instinctively meant hell to pay for any enemy. "Let's just hope that CJ was exact in that quotation." He turned about to Alf. "Alf, go over to Harry's and use the floo there…get everyone and have them meet at Wheezes, tell them to wait for my instructions. I need to have a few words with your Uncle Ron."

Alf looked at his father once, and somehow, a tiny spark of hope grew inside of him, that this would all be okay. And he, followed by Teddy, Eileen, and Ricky, ran for the Potter's house, to spread the word.

WWWWWWW

Ron was pacing in the office at the store. Verity had control of the floor, and he was far to irritable to be dealing with customers. He knew earlier that George had asked him to stay here, hoping that CJ might turn up. But it bugged the hell out of him; he felt out of it, isolated, and useless.

The floo crackled to life, and he saw George's face hovering in the flames. Ron leaned forward. "George, what the bloody hell is going on?" Ron barked out.

"Ronald, my prescient brother…" George said, a grim smile on his face and a wicked glint in his eye. "Listen very closely to what I am about to tell you. And then set about closing the store early."

Ron's eyes widened, as George mapped out his plan.


	39. Ch 39 Bricks and Blood

Percy Weasley watched as the gathered family galvanized into action, most of them heading to Wheezes to set underway plans he didn't entirely understand.

What he did understand, what exploded in his head just seconds after reading that diary entry, was that Amos Diggory had to be stopped, or CJ might never be safe.

A vague image was coming back to him of the night he'd been cursed. He was positive now that he'd been aware of this pending tragedy, that this was the reason for his being attacked, for the unending sense of worry he'd had about George ever since his return. The actual memories were still fuzzy, but the certainty of belief was growing as the time clicked away. He stood off to the side for a moment, and then grabbed Charlie as he ran past.

"I'm not going to Wheezes." Percy said.

"What?" Charlie blinked at him in surprise. "George really needs the help there, I think."

The two brothers couldn't be more a contrast if they tried. Charlie, stocky and rumpled, a man of action; Percy, balding, bespeckled and tidy, the essence of the bureaucrat. But the glint in Percy's eyes betrayed something more, as he continued speaking.

"I need to go to Croatia...and I need to take care of this." Charlie turned three shades of red and began to protest, but Percy held up a hand. "I'm quite determined, Charlie. Equally, you need to follow the family in this action. I just need somebody to know where I am." He flushed a bit. "That I'm not abandoning anybody this time."

Charlie looked with exasperation at his younger brother. "Of course you're not, you great idiot, and not one of us would have thought that." He took a deep breath. "Don't make me come after you again, Perce. I will hurt you if I have to, even if you've hurt yourself."

Percy's lips curled in to a thin smile. "I also need you to give George a message, when he's in the mood to hear it. Tell him I've gone to take care of tomorrow. He'll understand." Charlie just shook his head, and Percy motioned him away. "G'on now. They've all left but us, anyway. Well, us and the kids...is Alf still squawking about going to The Burrow?"

"Don't you know it...he's all Fred and George when he gets worked up like that. He'll go though, and take care of the kids. But guarantee that he's going to grumble about it for some time." Charlie managed a chuckle, then gave Percy a gentle punch. "Go get 'em, Perce."

"Will do." Percy watched as Charlie jogged off, and he himself headed for the floo. He was pretty certain he was still credentialed in to Filipowski's office...the Eastern Minister was notoriously slow in complying with Kingsley's wishes. And he trusted Filipowski right now more than Shacklebolt, for reasons he couldn't put his finger on. But he felt certain that once there, the Minister would give him carte blanche to do what he must do.

George, he believed, had hit upon a way to save CJ today. But there were days after today, and something had to be done to secure CJ's future. The boy had been willing to die to protect the family he loved; in that moment, he became as much a Weasley as any of them born were. And Percy wasn't going to fail, not this time.

WWWWWWW

_They watched CJ, stone-faced and angry. A rubble of a store lay at his feet; despite all of his intentions, he'd succumbed to the vow and blown up Wheezes. And the collected Weasley family surrounded him, enraged. Arthur came forward, and slapped him, hard enough to spin his face around, and CJ couldn't find the words to say how sorry he was, how hard he'd tried to not do this. Alf, just to the side, pulled his sister Liv in close to him, turning her away from CJ. And then CJ looked up and saw George. George, on his knees in front of the rubble that represented his ruined life, George, rocking back and forth in despair._

_George turned and caught CJ's eye, and the sorrow and pain there reverberated right through CJ's soul._

"_I didn't want to…" CJ cried out. "I didn't, I didn't!"_

With a gasp, CJ woke up, breaking out in a cold sweat and completely unaware of where he was, although he was certainly aware of what he was heading towards. As the beads of sweat ran down his back, and he cleared his dry throat, his eyes blinked, adjusting to the darkness.

Darkness…but surely it shouldn't be dark?

Wait…he had fallen ASLEEP? For how long?

"Lumos!" CJ whispered, still using Cedric's wand. He looked down at his watch. "Oh, BUGGER ME!"

It was almost ten pm. He was supposed to be, well, no longer drawing breath by now.

And suddenly he felt the weight of the curse landing on him, swinging down like a ton of bricks.

_Fulfill the vow…fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow…_

CJ sprang up, looking around frantically. He wouldn't do it. He refused. He was running late, but no matter what it took, he would not fulfill that vow.

But he did have to get to the store. He seemed to be moving almost automatically, picking up his bag, and turning in to the street. Down further, dark figures moved, fortunately not paying attention to him; the last thing he'd intended was to run afoul of the dark wizards of Knockturn Alley. He spelled the stones to leave him be, and then darted quickly to where the two major Alleys of Wizarding London joined.

The square in the area by where the Leaky Cauldron would be was quiet and deserted. To the side, a carriage rested, waiting to cart any late night guests of the bar up the length of Diagon Alley, for a fee. But now the driver was dozing lightly, and CJ slipped past him with no effort.

It was still overly humid, and that didn't set CJ's mood any better. It reminded him too much of that dream he'd had…not the one from tonight, but from a few days ago, when he'd been certain that he would blow up the store. THAT ONE had felt like a prophetic dream; the nightmare earlier had simply been his worst fears showing their ugly head.

He only saw one or two other wizards on his travels, and none paid him any mind. It was still Easter break, after all, and not impossible for a young wizard to be out and about. And CJ knew that he could pass for seventeen in most parts, anyway. Not that he'd ever live to have that be real.

"Give me strength, Cedric." He whispered.

The store was before him too quickly. It was 10:15 now, and with a dry mouth he used Cedric's wand once more, this time to execute the tricky combination which would grant him entry. The unsuspecting store seemed almost to welcome him as it swung open, and he stepped inside.

It was pitch black in the interior, especially once you stepped in a bit from the windows. He was tentative, and felt his way down the four steps that lead to the partially sunken main floor. Shuffling his feet slightly, he worked his way forward, feeling for the various boxes and displays that he knew would be around him.

His feet, even in shuffling, gave off a peculiar echo. He sneezed; it was dusty in here, must have been quite an active day if Uncle Ron hadn't been able to clean the floor. A few more tentative steps, and he felt the main checkout stand before him, and he paused.

This was it.

He was going to do it.

With a shaky hand, he raised Cedric's wand. Then he knelt down in front of the counter, and reaching forward he managed, after a few attempts, one last non-violent spell. "Lumos Diminué." He whispered.

A faint halo of light came from the wand; just enough light for him to see his own hands, to fumble with what he needed…

_fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow… fulfill the vow…_

"NO!" He insisted, then continued on his true mission.

But not with Cedric's wand. That was an abomination. No, this one time it would be okay for him to use his own. It might trigger the censors for the use of underage magic; although such transgressions were not usually noticed when surrounded by the heavy magical aura of most wizarding areas. But it was quite late, in the commercial district, and there weren't a lot of other wizards around. Still, what would the ministry do? Expel him posthumously for casting an Avada Kedavra on himself?

He reached in to his own bag, and removed his instrument of death; taking a deep breath, he prepared himself. How curiously silent the store was!

"ACCIO WANDS!"

His hand nearly splintered as his own wand was jerked away from him; Cedric's wand, as well, zoomed from its resting place, and into the deep darkness. He turned as Cedric's light diminished. "LUMOS." The voice called, quite calmly, and CJ found himself staring in to a blinding light; he raised his hand to shield his eyes.

"Sorry, kiddo." George's voice spoke quite normally from the dark ahead of him. "A bit bright, and you've probably been skulking about in the dark for hours." He dimmed his spell, and CJ heard footsteps coming towards him.

He panicked. "No!" He wanted to die, he NEEDED to die, but not in the way George's father had described, not horribly and painfully tearing himself to pieces as his very magical core turned against him. And if he didn't fulfill the vow, or kill himself, that was what he was looking at. He sprang up and began to back away from the source of the light. "You don't understand, Dad." He pleaded, still moving away. "And I can't explain!" His voice broke slightly. "You have to let me die!"

And instinctively CJ turned to run, for the outside, for any way to end his misery.

"ACCIO CJ!" George's voice called.

He was pulled backwards, as if by a violent magnet, not under Imperius, but yet against his will. He slipped as his feet dragged in the opposite direction, and in the end he tumbled in to George's arms.

"NO! LET ME GO! YOU HAVE TO…" CJ broke, the choking sensation coming upon him. "I CAN'T…I CAN'T…" And he broke down into sobs, mixed with struggled gasps for breath.

"Shhh…CJ, please…" George had a firm grip on him, and pulled him down to the floor. "Shh, don't try to tell me. Don't. I know you can't. I know everything CJ. The diary." CJ gasped once more, and then shuddered slightly, resting his head on George's shoulder for one moment. "I know."

With great resolve, CJ lifted his head. "Then you know what I have to do." He pleaded, begging George with his eyes to just let him end it.

"Yes. Blow up the store." George said, quite reasonably, as if he was saying 'clean your room'!

"No, I won't. I won't do that to you." CJ protested. "And it's…it's…you know!"

"Unbreakable."

"I am doomed. You can't save me, no matter what you do!" CJ finished.

_fulfill the vow…_

"CJ…" George stuck his wand where Cedric's had been a few minutes previously, and a small circle of light surrounded them. "Look at me."

CJ did as commanded. George's face was pale with worry, but he wasn't shaking, and his voice never quavered.

"I know you can't tell me anything, because I read that. But CJ, you can blink, once for yes, and twice for no. The first vow you were bound to, by your father…you wrote that in addition to a vow of silence, he ordered you to blow up Wheezes. Is that, to the best of your memory, _EXACTLY_ what he asked of you?" George questioned.

CJ blinked once.

"And then, when Lucius found out I had moved up the shipment date to Croatia, and when he changed your deadline accordingly, he commanded you exactly to destroy this STORE?"

Again, a single blink.

"Did he ever mention anything about the fireworks specifically in his vow?"

Two blinks then.

George's entire body seemed to relax. "Alright then. Here." George presented CJ with a strange bit of twine. "It's the same stuff I used to rescue Percy in Croatia, actually. Once you light it…and it has to be you…we'll have two minutes seconds to get out of here before she blows."

"I can't." CJ whispered. "I promised myself I wouldn't." He added weakly.

"Yes, but your promise wasn't unbreakable." George pointed out, quite smartly. "And I want you to do this, CJ. Look at me again." CJ's eyes met George's once more; those eyes were now even calmer, if possible, and filled with gentleness and…and love. "I set the charges perfectly. The building will come down quite neatly, a textbook demolition. The two buildings next door probably won't even crack a window. But **I** can't light it…and CJ, you are running out of time." He wrapped his arms around CJ and gave him back his wand. "Please, CJ. I want you to do this."

CJ took the wand, absolutely stunned. The vow pressed down on him, the voices chanting the urge to fulfill the vow like a dull echo through his head. But above that, he kept repeating something new to himself. He was going to destroy the store…not because Amos Diggory wanted him to, but because his _father_ wanted him to. His father wanted him to set off the charge; had even done the hardest bit for him.

Well, maybe not the _hardest_ bit; the hardest bit would certainly be lighting the fuse. But to lay out the explosives so that…so that nobody else's buildings would be damaged…that would have been complicated.

"The best spell for that fuse…" George nudged him gently, feeling him tremble as the minutes ticked away. "Would be _etincellumos. _A spark-light."

With a deep breath, CJ shakily touched the tip of his wand to the fuse. "ETINCELLUMOS" He stuttered out.

A bright snap went off. A tiny bit of fire emitted from his wand, and the fuse sizzled. Slowly, it began to travel.

George hopped up, lifting CJ with him. "And that's our cue."

Bumping against the pen, something new occurred to CJ. "The PYGMY PUFFS!" He gasped. "Dad, we can't let them die, nor the other creatures as well..."

"CJ!" George urged. "We need to leave!"

"But the PUFFS!"

"Lumos Grandé!" George hurriedly cast; a wider circle of light enveloped them. "CJ, there are no Puffs…I've already removed them!"

CJ blinked for a second; not only was the crate that held the puffs empty; the shelves around them were also curiously vacant.

He didn't have time to think, though; George actually hit him with a feather-light spell and picked him up like a child, running outside and for the street. He zig-zagged across the alley, and then into a passageway between two stores on the opposite side from Wheezes. Stumbling slightly, George tumbled to the ground, holding CJ tightly and turning towards the silent scene across from them.

"Steady, CJ…" George whispered, rocking CJ back and forth. "Steady, now…any second…"

CJ held his breath.

**ka-BOOM! ka-BOOM! ka-BOOM! ka-BOOM!**

The charges went off, one after the other; CJ flinching with each one and waiting for the inevitable: the ignition of a billion galleons worth of fireworks that would probably light up half of London…

After the last charge, then, silence…and then…as if in slow motion…the first floor crumbled down, the second floor following it into the dust, the third floor, and the fourth…down, down, like a stacked cake pushed into someone's face. CJ gulped, and waited…a large cloud of dust raised up, furious…but no other light show, no cascade of magical music set in time to vibrant bursts of color.

Just…a gap. As the smoke cleared, a gap could be seen: a pile of rubble where once a store had been.

Trembling, CJ looked up at George, and was stunned to see him smiling. "Brilliant, that was. Most perfect charge I've ever laid!"

And then, a new feeling…a strange release…like something fell off of him, leaving him reborn. He'd lived under that vow for so many years now; was this what it felt like to be free?

And he began to sob, suddenly, a sob of relief and shock, and George just pulled him closer. "Sh, CJ. You still can't talk about it, you know. Not while your father and Malfoy are still alive. But the big one, the major vow…well, I can see from your face; you felt that one pass over."

Trembling, wiping at his face with his sleeve, CJ looked up at George. "But…but the fireworks…all that money and time you invested in them…and…"

"And they are being shipped tomorrow." George stroked his face gently. "Once Ricky brought that diary to Alf, and we all realized what you were up against…" George chuckled. "I'm not quite as dumb as your father thinks I am. I knew then, in that second, that the whole thing was engineered. Percy always had wondered about that contract. But Ron's warehouse is damned close to done, you know. I mobilized the family, and we pretty much got all the inventory out."

CJ hiccupped once, still getting used to the feeling of relief. "But…but he wanted to…wanted to destroy you?"

"Clearly. The man must have been harboring an irrational hatred for me for some time." George took a deep breath, and again, to CJ's shock, he laughed. "Unbreakable vows are vicious, terrible things; but they are also very literal. Your father may have _meant_ to destroy me, CJ. But what he _asked_ you to do was destroy the store. Not the same thing."

Calming slowly, CJ began to see the logic behind it. "That's why the wording of the…of the…"

"Yes. That's why it was so important. If I had to take you to the moors to actually destroy those fireworks, I would have…and bollocks to the money. But if I could save you and not give your father the satisfaction…" He shrugged modestly, a slight twinkle in his eye. Then he looked down and caught CJ's look, and he stroked his head gently.

"Your father doesn't understand. What keeps me going isn't that store. Oh, I love being an inventor, love the look on the kids faces the first time they walk in. But I didn't grow up with money, CJ. Just a lot of love. If I'd lost every sickle I'd ever had, I'd just get another job. Maybe teach with Miss Shell. Whatever. But he couldn't destroy me, not as long as I still had her, and Alf, and Freddo, and the girls…" He kissed CJ on the forehead. "And you."

"But…" CJ struggled to understand; it had been too long he'd lived with his vow to really believe it was going to be alright now. "But that was the building you found with Fred. Where you started the store together. Aren't you going to miss that? That was the last you had of him!"

Arms wrapped tightly around him, and George leaned in and rested his head on his chin, the two of them still looking out at the gaping hole in the line of buildings. "I remember clear as a bell the day Fred and I found that place. Miserable hole in the wall, he'd said, but it would have to do. I remember the day we signed the lease, and we walked in and he nearly fell through a hole in the floorboards Nearly fell over with laughter, I did. I remember us working night and day, harder than my Mum would ever have believed, to clean it, repair it, make it into the magical place we thought the world needed. I remember feeling like I was going to faint the day we opened, and how calm Fred was. Then, after a day that was so wildly successful, I remember Fred and I sitting with firewhiskey, and Fred saying that step one was complete, that someday Wheezes would be a force for the world to reckon with, and that piddling store on Diagon Alley would be a joke."

He looked down at CJ once more. "You didn't blow up those memories, CJ. They're not going anywhere, and I'll have them to smile over and laugh at for a long time to come. And honestly, if Fred were here, he'd probably be applauding. Been thinking about expanding the branch here for years, to tell you the truth, ever since the day I bought out the building owner. Maybe I _should_ have taken out the other two buildings; then I could have expanded on both sides!"

"You…are…insane." CJ said, shaking his head, and then he managed a smile, something it suddenly felt like he hadn't done in a very long time. "Can we go home?" He added, hoping that the reaction back there was going to be equally mind-boggling.

George hesitated, and CJ could see he was struggling with something. "Not quite yet, kiddo. I want to make sure everything is okay. We wait until midnight."

CJ trembled once more; funny, how free he felt, and yet how tired all of a sudden. George let him lean his head on his shoulder, and CJ gave in to the love, for the first time, without feeling guilty. In an almost whisper, George kept talking to him. "When I lost Fred, the building didn't take his place. That building is bricks and mortar, particle board and plaster. I can rebuild that building, or not; the choice is mine. But I can't rebuild you, CJ. You are flesh and blood, your own unique being. You aren't me or Alf or Teddy...you are CJ. Your father may have tried to use you to replace Cedric, but he was wrong...you aren't a replacement for anything, and you are irreplaceable to me."

With a sigh, CJ listened to what George said, while at the same time he could hear George's heart beating, and it soothed him. And he looked up into George's kind, forgiving face. "My father isn't wrong." CJ corrected, though his eyes were heavy. "Amos Diggory isn't my father anymore."

"No, he isn't." George rubbed CJ's back as the boy relaxed into him. "Glad you caught on."

WWWWWWW

George watched CJ sleeping, not moving from their hiding place. Earlier that day, George had mobilized everyone to transport boxes and boxes of inventory to what he had once considered the most colossal waste of space Ron could have imagined. Unfortunately, he suspected that once Ron knew CJ was safe, he'd be in for a good amount of _I told you that warehouse was a good idea!_ from his younger brother.

Of course, CJ wasn't safe just yet. Not that he planned on letting CJ know that. Michelle had gotten hold of Matthias Morgainne to go over the vow as written, and he'd agreed with what George had suspected. But that was when a new fear had come up: what if Amos had come from Croatia to witness the destruction? Or to provide extra prodding to his wayward son? It had seemed entirely possible, and so until midnight struck, he was keeping CJ in his arms, and not moving from the sight of the destruction. Once he was sure that there wasn't some hidden part of that vow that needed acting on, he would move on.

There was more. As they'd been running around like crazy, as George had pieced together CJ's plan from his diary and put bits and pieces of things together, he'd realized that Percy was missing. And asking about it, Charlie had pulled him aside, and given him that cryptic message, along with the disturbing news that Percy had headed back to Eastern Europe.

It wasn't until George had been waiting for CJ in the empty store, with all too much time to think, that Percy's words made sense to him. _Today_ George could save CJ; _tomorrow_, Amos could turn up and demand to have CJ returned. And at the moment, knowing what he now knew, he didn't count on Kingsley not giving in.

Amos had already tortured CJ in any way conceivable; no way was George going to give him even the slightest chance of doing it again.

He looked down at his watch. CJ was now out cold; something Michelle had warned was likely to happen. The boy had been living under the emotional strain of an unbreakable since he was eleven; she fully expected some sort of magical exhaustion once the vow was fulfilled. And carefully, he counted the minutes, watching as the last seconds ticked away to midnight.

There was silence, then. CJ kept right on breathing, deeply and steadily, his color slowly becoming more normal, and almost a hint of a smile on his face.

Safe from the vow, then. George stood with CJ still in his arms, the boy still weighing only a fraction of what he ought to thanks to that spell he'd cast earlier. He knew that at this moment, Harry was seeking Kingsley on his behalf. He knew that Ron had gone to find Draco, to get advice on handling Lucius. But CJ was still vulnerable, if not to a vow, then to the vagaries of the wizarding laws, and how the Minister chose to enforce them. Thankfully, there was still once place where CJ would be safe.

Funny. Fifteen years ago they'd needed a safe house, one held by a secret keeper, one whose location was only given to a few. He'd had to quiz Bill, because his own memory was rather sketchy, but George had confirmed: Kingsley Shacklebolt had not been one of those few who could access their safe house on his own.

Ahead, George heard some commotion; he looked around the corner and saw a contingency from the ministry, low-level, clearly there to investigate the explosion. Yes, it was time to get out, and get CJ to safety.

Preparing to apparate, he held the sleeping boy close, and he thought hard of just one thing:

_Shell Cottage._

WWWWWWW

April 19th

Amos Diggory had an almost jubilant bounce in his step. Malfoy's buddy Goyle, disguised as a carriage driver, had seen it, seen it all; seen the boy, at the end of the evening, sneak in to the store, and had seen the destruction that had followed. "A right good thumpin' boom" was how he'd termed it in his letter, owled to him at first light.

Even better, Diggory had heard that CJ remained at large. Who knew that his pathetic excuse for a second son actually had some talent after all? He wasn't a colossal failure; he had fulfilled the vow, AND evaded authority. A worthy son, in fact; he would even tell CJ so once they met again.

Chuckling again, he looked down at a shiny medal that Kingsley Shacklebolt had sent to him, the fool! _For exemplary service._ The note had said. _Wear it every day with pride! Every morning, touch it and know that I know your value. _Bullshit, and yet it amused him, every day, to tap the little medallion and think to himself that Shacklebolt didn't know the half of it.

Yes, it was a beautiful day, and with great joy he headed in to a small cafe in the heart of the old city, a beaming smile on his face. A look he checked, with effort, into one of conciliation, as he spotted Minister Filipowski at a small table, with a large cappuccino and a croissant. A cup of tea was across from him, untouched, and Amos sat down in the vacant chair.

"Diggory." Filipowski's expression was unreadable. "You are looking quite somber."

"I just wanted to offer my condolences. I have heard about the unfortunate disaster. This must be quite a blow to your plans, I know. I guess perhaps we ought to not have trusted George Weasley after all."

Filipowski looked at him, one eyebrow raised and his expression curiously blank. "I have not the pleasure of understanding you, Mr. Diggory. Has Mr. Weasley failed me in some way?"

Amos checked a chuckle, and shook his head sadly. "You haven't heard then? Why, there's been a disaster...his store has been destroyed. Horrible explosion...all those fireworks, gone. I cannot imagine any way in which he could make that contract."

"Hello, Amos." A voice spoke behind him. "I beg your pardon, but you are in my seat."

Amos jumped back slightly, and turned, looking upwards. Percy Weasley was there, a thin smile on his lips.

"Ah, Percy!" Amos tried to recover from the surprise. Then he realized why, of course, Percy must be there. "Oh, dear, I do hope I haven't let the CAT out of the bag precipitously; I was just telling Minister Filipowski about poor George's sad disaster."

Percy, meanwhile, carefully pulled another chair up to the table. Sitting deliberately, he pulled over his tea, and sniffed it gently, looking over at Diggory from the top of the rim. He took a sip, placed the cup back down, and only then did he speak. "I assume you are referencing the unfortunate destruction of the building on Diagon Alley last evening?"

Filipowski spoke. "He was just informing me that clearly this would cause your brother to fail to fulfill his contract."

Percy gave a gentle smile, though Amos noted his eyes were watchful. "How _kind_ of you to be concerned, Amos. I am sure you will be happy to know that it turns out my brother had removed all of the fireworks inventory to a new warehouse, a highly secret location, yesterday. After all, it would have been terribly dangerous to keep that amount of explosives in a small building, no matter how carefully handled. In fact, I have just been in communication with my brother Ronald...the transfer from the warehouse to Mr. Filipowski's equally secure location is now under way."

Amos felt as if all the blood in his body had been drained from him, so cold did it get suddenly. He began to breathe more rapidly. Surely...surely this couldn't be right? But Goyle had said it was an enormous explosion! Of course, Goyle had never been the brightest bulb, but still...

Filipowski had continued speaking. "Excellent news indeed. Of course, Amos, I had been aware that there were those who might target that shipment, and Mr. George Weasley was much of the same mind. We worked quite well together, I must say. But I am sorry to hear that he suffered such tragic loss of property."

Amos could barely follow what was happening, as he turned to Percy to hear how George, that infernal, lying bastard, was doing.

"Oh, it was no great thing." Percy shrugged. "Of much greater concern is that he nearly lost one of his boys in the incident...well, actually, your son, Amos...I understand that he was there when it happened. You'll be happy to know, of course, that George had him safe and secure. Very, very secure." Percy stressed. "As for the building, the exceptional profit George made from this commission, in addition how his reputation will no doubt grow after the wild success the celebration will be, will more than enable him to rebuild. I dare say, he may even expand!"

Amos stood abruptly, backing away from Percy in horror. "No, no...that can't be!"

Percy's eyes bored in to him. "Why, Amos, you don't look happy. It couldn't be that you have some issue with my brother, is it? It couldn't be that you forced your son into an Unbreakable Vow to try and exact revenge for some hallucinatory sleight?"

Feeling light headed, Amos grasped on to the mantle of the coffee bar. "You can't know about that! You CAN'T!"

Percy rose, and before Amos knew what was happening, he found himself staring at the point of his wand. He swallowed hard, and stared into the younger man before him, who suddenly looked every bit like Arthur when Arthur was driven, when Arthur's family was under threat. A man of strong conviction that never seemed to waver, and integrity that never dimmed.

He'd always envied Arthur that.

"Care to duel, Amos?" Percy's voice was like silk. "You have insulted my family and done them harm. I ought to kill you outright...but that's not how I do things. So, Amos...will you meet me in duel? Or are you such a coward that you would let your child fight your battles?"

Amos flinched. He was no fighter, but this was a threat against his very manhood, in a very public place, in a land where to be a coward was worse than to be a thief. And yet speech failed him; looking at Percy, one would not believe this was the bureaucrat that Cornelius Fudge believed he had cowed.

Percy spotted, suddenly, his medal, and a look of loathing came over his face. "Shacklebolt! I cannot believe how you had him snowed under. If it's the last thing I do, I will see that man removed from office."

Looking down, Amos reached instinctively to touch the shiny medallion.

As he did so, it seemed to glow. Suddenly he felt his hand stiffening, growing cold; then pain, pain beyond pain, filled him. His hand blackened, and he was unable to move his arm; the ice seemed to travel up, up his bicep and to his shoulder. He could only stare as the curse covered him, pressing in on all sides, all parts of his body, growing outwards from that damned medal. What the hell had Percy done to him?

He looked up, and saw the confused and horrified look of the man before him, his eyes wide with shock. So...not Percy then. Bloody hell, Amos thought...it was Kingsley after all!

And then...darkness.


	40. Ch 40 Securing the Future

CJ knew before he opened his eyes, that wherever he was, it wasn't home. It wasn't his bed, certainly, and it equally wasn't Godric's Hollow, unless Britain had suffered some sort of cataclysmic earthquake that resulted in the ocean now being outside his window. Because that was the sound of the ocean, and the smell of it. Confused, he opened his eyes.

George was in a chair beside him, long legs stretched out, leaning backwards and sleeping. CJ looked around the room, which was small and tidy and bland, clearly a guest room of some sort. But where was he? Had something happened after last night's drama that made George change his mind about forgiving him, or had the rest of the family not seen things the same way? Why _wasn't_ he home?

He spotted a glass of water off to the side, and carefully he reached for it, trying hard not to wake his father up. But George, like any parent who had seen a child through a life threatening crises, would have heard CJ turning his head on his pillow. His eyes snapped open at once, and as if he'd been awake the entire time; he helped CJ to his drink, smiling with reassurance, as if last night had never happened.

CJ finished of the liquid quickly, and sank back down to the pillow, looking at George. "Where are we?" He asked, all the while thinking, _Why am I here?_

George smoothed CJ's hair back. "Shell Cottage, Bill's house." He looked at his watch. "And it's only six am. You must be exhausted still, kiddo."

He was, but his brain was working overtime at the moment. "Bill's house?" He tried to sound easy going about it, but his voice broke just slightly.

His father seemed to realize at once what CJ was really asking. "I know you want to go home. But it isn't safe for you there at the moment This place is still unplottable."

Something, some fear, lit up in CJ's eyes then. "Oh. Am I in trouble?"

George looked surprised. "Of course not, CJ. I told you I read that diary. I know the situation you were in. I'm just grateful I didn't lose you; I can hardly be _mad_ at you!"

CJ forced himself, as tired as he was, to a half sitting position. "I didn't mean in trouble with you." He replied, once he got himself arranged. "But I broke the decree for underage magic. Not to mention, blew up a building. I assume it is the ministry you're keeping me hidden from?" It had always been in the back of CJ's mind, if he had survived this whole mess, that he might very well have run afoul of several laws.

"Oh." George leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and considered that. "I guess I need to explain everything…I'd hoped to wait until I had some answers. Firstly, it's my property you damaged, and you did so with my permission. I think the ministry would have a hard time making any charge that would stick. But…" George gave CJ a steady stare. "Kingsley never did more than give me temporary guardianship of you, CJ. And whatever else happened, I snuck behind his back to get that shipment secured. He's going to be angry at me…which doesn't bother me in the slightest, because I've pretty much lost all respect for him. Except that he might send you back to Amos."

CJ gaped at George, feeling nauseous. "I won't go."

"Well, of course you won't; that's why you're here." George tried to soothe him, seeing that he was getting upset. "But you are a little more than a year away from coming of age. That makes you vulnerable."

Fear replaced anger, as a flush came up on his face. A year away from being seventeen? What exactly did THAT mean? "I'm going to have to stay HERE? For a YEAR?" CJ's voice went up an octave, and he realized how petty he sounded, after everything else that had gone on. He closed his eyes. "Sorry. It's just I'd hoped, if I got out of this, to have my last two years of school NOT bollixed up by that man." He grumbled.

George actually smiled. "Completely normal request, I'd say. And it won't come to that… between Harry and I, and Percy, we'll get things straightened out. But until we do, there is no way I am going to let Amos Diggory within ten miles of you, CJ."

With a small smile, CJ looked at George trying to find the words for how much that meant to him, when suddenly…an emptiness filled him. A cold void that made him feel detached for a moment, floating above things. It scared him; he felt his pulse race at the suddenness of it, his breathing become quicker and less deep. The sound seemed to fade in and out.

"CJ?" He heard his father call to him. "CJ!" Arms went around him, shaking him gently, but his world seemed to be spinning and he couldn't find his focus.

What was going on?

WWWWWWW

Percy Weasley paced back and forth in Filipowski's office, waiting for word on Amos Diggory. He'd come to Croatia well aware that he might have to kill the man; but he hadn't been prepared to just watch him be cursed like that. Percy both feared and hoped that his mission had been taken from his hands.

Filipowski entered, looking perplexed. "Amos Diggory is dead." He said, quietly.

"I didn't do it." Percy said at once, though it seemed odd to defend himself when he had planned on doing it the entire time.

"I _was_ there, Mr. Weasley." Filipowski gave him a thin smile. "Yet I am surprised you would not wish to take credit for it, as it was what you intended."

Percy stopped his pacing and leveled an even stare at the Minister. "I didn't come here to kill him for my greater glory. I came here to duel him, to defend my family from a threat."

Filipowski's smile grew irritatingly larger, though he gave Percy a slight nod. "In any event, I believe it will be your minister Shacklebolt who will take all honors here."

"What?" Percy stared in disbelief. Diggory was an operative for the British Ministry; you didn't kill one of your own. Though Diggory was known to be dealing on both sides, the point in fact was that they DID know it; they were using him knowing full well he'd been gotten to. "How?"

"That little medallion…awarded to him for his honorable service." Somehow Filipowski got that out with a straight face. "It had a powerful curse on it, one that would only strike at the wearer, and only after a certain period of time. I am guessing that for some reason, Kingsley wished him removed…but not too quickly."

"Bloody hell." Percy sighed once more, then gave the Minister a quick look. "Any sign of Lucius Malfoy?"

"Are you _still_ looking to duel?" Filipowski smirked.

Percy wasn't, actually. He was no fool. He knew full well that Amos was a poor fighter, always more of a desk jockey, and always out of practice. He also knew that he himself was a better fighter than he appeared. But Lucius Malfoy was in an entirely different league. The man was a former death eater, and Percy was quite positive that he would have an uphill battle fighting him. And getting killed wasn't going to help his family at all. "Just curious." He replied. "As I would think you would be, considering."

"There, you are right. Mr. Malfoy, last reported, was in the wild countryside, along with the dark wizard he now follows. It is doubtful he knows of any of these events yet."

"Let's keep it that way." Percy said quickly. "At least until I can make sure it's quite impossible for him to reenter Britain."

"Understood." Filipowski clapped Percy on the shoulder. "You are tired, my friend. Can I offer you respite before your departure."

Percy shook his head. "I need to tell George about Amos. At least that's one thing he doesn't have to worry about anymore."

WWWWWWW

George watched anxiously as CJ somehow seemed to steady himself, and as the trance, or seizure almost, that he seemed to be having, subsided. Not that he let go of him, though…he had the boy clutched as tight as he could without bruising him. Finally, the CJ swallowed hard, and looked up at him, pale but slowly composing himself. "M'okay, Dad. How long did that last?"

"About ten seconds…I'd say they were the longest ten seconds of my life, but after last night..." George managed a shaky laugh. "What happened, kiddo?"

CJ hesitated, clutching the blanket up to his chin. He cleared his throat. "It was like last night, after I'd fulfilled the vow; there was this vacuum effect as its power broke. Only a hundred times more so." He looked at George, and taking a deep breath, he made a try at something he'd wanted to do for a long time. "I hated that I couldn't tell anybody about my father's vow. Every time I even thought about talking about it, it felt like my throat was constricting, and all I wanted to do was tell someone that he wanted me to destroy the store."

Eyes wide, George looked at CJ, speaking so calmly. "CJ…you're talking about it now!"

"I know." He closed his eyes, and admitted to himself what must have just happened. "I think my father is dead."

A sudden chill filled George. _Percy? Was that what he meant when he said he was going to take care of tomorrow?_

CJ didn't notice his reaction, closing his eyes with a little sigh. "I wish I could be sad about it. But I really can't." He gave a wry smile at George's confusion. "You did say that the no-speaking vow would last until he died, right?"

"That's true." George decided that now was not the time to inform CJ as to how he suspected Amos had met his end. Then, wondering slightly, he asked CJ the obvious. "Can you talk about the second vow?"

CJ opened his mouth, shut it, tried clearing his throat and gave a little gurgling sound. In frustration he pounded the mattress next to him.

"Alright, alright, clearly not." George said, stroking his head once more. He exhaled. "Well, it looks like getting you home just got a bit easier, anyway,"

Tears flooded CJ's eyes. "You are being far too nice." He murmured.

"Shush." George's face melted into kindness. "I only wish I were a worse father; I might have read your diary months ago."

CJ's lips twitched, as he wiped his face. "I thought about trying to show it to you, you know. The first time I began writing about what had happened, I waited to see if I would be able to, and I was. But I didn't know if showing you the diary would mean I'd _told_ you. And that was like four years ago, so I though I had time to figure it out."

"I understand." George poured him another glass of water. "But I am surprised that, when it came down to it, you didn't at least give it a try, instead of deciding to kill yourself."

CJ shook his head. "Until I overheard a conversation between Alf and Gramps, there was only one direct reference to an unbreakable vow I was able to uncover. And it was in a fairy tale: Ulrich the Unbearable. The story was he made a vow to never let anybody know his name. But he won a pile of gold from a leprechaun in a bet, and the leprechaun tricked him by saying he had to sign a parchment agreeing that the bet was fulfilled. And the story ended only by saying, 'he died horribly.' Not much to go on…"

"But all you had, I guess." It was coming together, slowly. George relaxed a little and laid CJ back on the bed. Quietly he pulled a vial from the side table; Michelle had sent him over with some calming medications that she thought one, or possibly both, of them might need. "Here."

CJ took the draught without questioning him, though after he finished it he met his eye, looking hopeful. "Are Alf and Miss Shell going to be able to come by? I mean, I'm not totally in exile, am I?"

"Certainly not." Actually, George was surprised he hadn't seen one or both of them yet. "They'll be here soon, no doubt. And now that we have your father apparently out of the way…" He cringed, fearing Percy might end in prison, "It means we only have the Ministry to sort out. All will be well, kiddo. Get some sleep." He noted CJ's eyes fluttering closed. "I have a feeling you haven't been doing enough of that lately."

He watched CJ sleeping for a few minutes, and felt himself dropping off again, when he heard the floo…the highly secure floo…being used, and checking to make sure CJ was fully out of it, George left the room, going down to the kitchen.

To his surprise, it was Ricky, and only Ricky, there. George came up short, looking around.

"Where is everyone?" George asked, laying a hand on Ricky's shoulder.

"All hell is breaking lose at the ministry." Ricky said quickly. "Oops, language, I know…don't tell Dad. Anyway, the Minister is raising a right ruckus and won't let Uncle Harry or Aunt Hermione out of his sight, and he's got people stationed at the Burrow and at the store in Hogsmeade, pretty much keeping every member of the family in sight, hoping to roust you and CJ out."

"What?" George balked. "Wait, Rick…how did YOU get here?"

"I should say he set people to follow every ADULT member of the family. Alf, more's the pity for him, apparently counts as an adult…they've locked him, Teddy, and Eileen up together in your old room at The Burrow."

George felt his blood pressure rising, and really wondered if this time he weren't going to duel Kinsgley outright. Ricky, however, was continuing.

"It was pretty funny…Dad put on a show of chewing me out over something, and dragged me off to his old room…only to tell me once I got there to shinny down the drain pipe and get over to the old Diggory estate; he'd noticed that the floo was still working there. Of course, I had to floo from there, to your house, and then to here, because of the security, but I made it!"

"You did." George rubbed his head, still somewhat confused that Bill had pulled that stunt off, and even more so that… "Wait, your father knew the trick about the drain pipe?"

"Apparently he was just better at not getting caught than you guys." Ricky confirmed. "But I think they need you at the ministry, anyway, to try and get things settled."

George would have started off at once, only he could hardly leave CJ, out cold, alone with only his twelve year old nephew for protection, HOWEVER resourceful that nephew had become. Ricky sensed his anxiety, apparently, and held up a coin. "Look, I have one too…Dad apparently thought this was the best idea you ever had. If anything goes wrong, I'll get hold of him at once. But I think only you are going to be able to work things out with the Minister. He's being an arse."

"Language." George smiled at him again, rubbing his head for good measure. "And no, I won't tell your father." He looked about. "Don't let anybody in here, except for family. Got it?"

"Got it." Ricky nodded proudly. "CJ up in the guest room? You could have put him in mine, you know…I wouldn't have minded."

"Yes, but I needed a bed I could FIND." George teased. Ricky just laughed and darted up the stairs, and George turned to go outside, out past the boundary set up against apparition, and to head towards the ministry.

He didn't know exactly what Percy had done. But he was afraid that if he wasn't careful, they might end up sharing a cell together.

WWWWWWW

"You cannot be serious, Alfred!" Eileen said, sounding more like his grandmother than one of his best friends.

"We have to get bloody OUT of here." Alf said, not for the first time, pacing back and forth in the tiny room that had once been shared by his fathers.

Teddy was sitting on the left bed, leaning forward thoughtfully. "Alf has a point, Eileen. Somebody needs to alert George as to what's happening, and clearly they have the entire family hostage at various locations."

Eileen gave a little huff, tossing her single braid around her back. "I understand that. But I hardly think attempting to apparate for the first time, from here to Shell Cottage, is a brilliant idea."

"Why not?" Alf protested hotly.

"Because like as not you'll splinch yourself, and your Dad has quite enough to worry about, thank you. It's not like you lot have ever done it before."

Teddy and Alf gave each other slightly guilty, yet amused glances, and Eileen paled.

"You HAVEN'T?"

"We have to practice." Teddy pointed out. "I mean, just about our back yards, and stuff, not past that, but yeah, we're not half bad."

"And your fathers approve of this?" Eileen crossed her arms in front of herself.

Again, that guilty glance passed between them, and it was Teddy who spoke once more. "Uncle George and Uncle Harry don't know, of course. But…"

"Aunt Ginny does." Alf finished. "She's the one been teaching us. Said she used to do it all the time, and Fred and George taught her when she was fourteen." Alf gave a wicked grin. "I'm not entirely sure she doesn't consider teaching me as a way of tweaking Dad a bit."

"Anyway, Leenie, the thing is, we're locked in here, they've cast spells to keep us from hearing what's going on, and nobody can leave. They have Uncle Charlie under wraps at the Hogsmeade store, and nobody dares get in touch with Ron at the warehouse, because then the ministry will know where it is. Aunt Mi and Uncle Harry are stuck at the ministry and who knows WHAT is being done to them." Teddy looked suddenly determined. "Alf is right. We need to apparate to George right now."

"One little problem." Eileen rubbed at her head. "I can't go. I haven't been having secret lessons while you lot have. And if I stay here, then once they realize you've been gone, they will try to force me to tell them where you are."

Alf looked at Eileen thoughtfully. "You'll have to come side-along, is all." He said finally.

Eileen burst in to laughter, and Alf felt his face getting hot. "I told you I'm not half bad. I won't, like, hurt you or anything. Although perhaps you'd feel safer with Teddy."

"I don't feel safe about this with either of you." She retorted, shaking her head. "Honestly, Alf, this is the worst idea you've had since the hippogriffs!"

"Hang on." Teddy paused at her statement. "What's this about hippogriffs?"

"Never mind." Alf and Eileen both snapped at the same time.

"Oh, ho!" Teddy's smile flashed brightly. "You two been holding out on me, eh?"

"Shut up." Alf said shortly. Then, as he'd done that day in the barn, he held his hand out to Eileen. With a sigh of resignation, she took it.

"You better hold on to me." She said, part request, part threat.

"I won't let you go." He promised. Then he and Teddy looked at each other with a nod.

"To the boundary beyond Shell Cottage." Alf thought, and he felt the space around him melt away.

WWWWWWW

George got to the ministry within minutes of leaving Shell Cottage. As soon as he'd made an appearance, a wizard he vaguely recognized appeared at his side. "Mr. Weasley? Is Mr. CJ Diggory with you?" The ministry employee asked nervously.

"Clearly not." George pointed out, studying him. "It is Michael Corner, right?"

"Er, right. I rather hadn't thought you'd remember me." He was thin, and what sparse hair he had was blonde, combed over his forehead.

"You dated my sister." George added. He considered adding a hex in just for kicks, but admitted to himself that, with the exception of her first year at school, Ginny really needed very little protection.

"Yes, briefly." He twisted his neck about, rubbing sweat on to his hands. "Um, I need to bring you to the Minister directly."

"I should certainly hope so." Officious pratt, George thought. Still, he's just doing his job, no reason for me to torture him. He smirked; he'd reserve his energy for Kingsley himself.

As he was brought into the office he'd visited once or twice before, he saw Harry off to the corner, arms folded, looking disgusted, and Hermione with her lips pinched, sitting on a low sofa. Kingsley's back was to him, his hands clasped behind him so tightly that his knuckles were swollen.

"Hello, Minister." George's voice was smooth and unworried. "I gather I've become a person of interest for you."

Kingsley turned to face him, and then with a nod motioned Michael Corner to leave; the man was clearly happy to do so. The minister then looked over Harry and Hermione with a similar nod, expecting them to depart as well.

"We are family." George replied. "There is nothing you cannot say to me that you cannot say in front of them."

"Indeed." Kingsley looked resigned, but still quite angry. "You are family enough that it may cost them their jobs."

George cringed slightly, but Hermione spoke quickly. "Don't let him get to you, George. If working for this Ministry means condoning the abuse and torture of children, I want no part of it."

Kingsly scoffed lightly, and Harry's eyes bored in to him. "The Minister knows well enough my feelings about using a child for our own ends."

That brought the minister up short, and he glared back at Harry. "This is nothing like what you were forced to endure, and you know it." He passed a hand over his bald head, rubbing back sweat, and he returned to George. "Why didn't you tell me you were moving the contract up?"

"Because I didn't trust you." George said promptly. "And why, may I ask, are you involved at all in the contract I made with a friendly foreign government? Oh, I've realized well enough that you were behind my getting it in the first place; Percy's had reservations about this whole thing the entire time. But what is it to you?"

Kingsley leaned forward on his desk. "George, it's foreign policy, all of it; making sure that the Eastern government is successful, and this new dark wizard is thwarted, is all that I was trying to accomplish. And your work IS the best work for the job." He almost sounded pleading as he said it. "Can you not see what I was trying to do?"

"I can." George admitted. "And if CJ's life was not endangered by your actions, I would have been only too happy to help."

"Mr. Diggory is not your son." Kingsley stood abruptly, hands once more going behind his back. "And it was perhaps foolish of me to leave him in your care so long."

George took two steps forward, only the desk separating him from the Minister. "And _that_..." He hissed. "Is why I have CJ secured in a safe location. You'll not lay hands on him, Kingsley, and you'll not take him away from me. If he's not my son legally, it's only because you've been using him for your own purposes, as Harry suggested. In any other circumstances, for a boy who'd been tortured for hours by his own father and without other family, adoption would have been welcomed!"

Before Kingsley could speak, the floo crackled to life, and the head of another employee appeared.

"Minister...we have a situation at The Burrow." The witch spoke.

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ we do." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Speak."

"Alfred Weasley, Teddy Lupin and Eileen Prince have somehow escaped from the room we secured them in?"

"What?" Harry and Shacklebolt exclaimed together...though perhaps not for the same reason.

George backed away slightly, his heart giving a little jolt as Shacklebolt and the talking head had a heated exchange. Had he seen one son through danger, only to risk another? Surreptitiously he placed a hand on the coin he wore, mentally reaching out to Alf. The feelings flowed back in to him almost simultaneously. Alf was fine. George wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten out, but he wasn't in danger.

He could feel Alf's uneasiness along with his reassurances. They could communicate nothing more than feelings this way, not words, but if he had to guess Alf was worried that George was angry. But Alf was alright...and George tried to convey calming thoughts back to him. He didn't know what Alf had done, exactly, but he could be fairly certain that in the same circumstances, he might have blown a hole through the house entirely. He saw Hermione watching him, realizing what he was doing, and saw her relief; a second later Harry spotted the same thing, and his shoulders relaxed just slightly.

The witch in the fireplace was expostulating wildly. "...but the only way they could have gotten out would have been to apparate!"

Kingsley wheeled on him. "Mr. Weasley...have you taught your SON how to apparate before the legal age?"

George looked disgusted. "I don't know what you're talking about. I can assure you, I have never done any such thing." He kept all other thoughts to himself.

Grumbling, Kingsley strode through the office and in to the hallway, apparently to send wizards out after the missing teens. Harry immediately came up beside him, and Hermione cast a cone of silence about them.

"They're okay?" Harry asked, nervously.

"Fine. Alf's a bit nervous, no doubt at whatever he did to engineer this, but he's fine." George relaxed. "I'm guessing they did apparate."

"You lie well." Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Teddy doesn't know how to apparate!" Harry protested simultaneously.

George gave Harry a surprised look. "You didn't know?" Seeing Harry getting frustrated, he held up a hand. "I didn't teach them Harry. And I don't think they know that I know. But I've guessed it for a while. Ginny's been going about with this wicked glint in her eye, and the boys would come in all breathless and as if they have this little secret..."

"My wife..." Harry deadpanned. "Has been teaching underage wizards how to apparate?"

"I'm sure she's doing it safely." George tried to sooth him. And probably not beyond the yard. I mean, that's what Fred and I did with her."

"Of course you did." Hermione shook her head, unable to keep a twinkle out of her eyes.

Harry was still gaping, and George shrugged. "Ginny threw her first bat bogey hex before she could walk, Harry. At Bill, no less. From that moment on, Fred and I pretty much considered her an equal. Hell, by the time you were doing your DA stuff, we could tell she was more powerful than any of us. Anyway, Fred and I had been practicing over Christmas for our test, and she followed us about looking pathetic, probably because of you, mate, and we decided to let her practice with us." George grinned in memory. "She got it much quicker than Percy did, I remember!"

Despite himself, Harry laughed, "I should have known. All summer she was acting like the cat that ate the canary. Can I assume they are...where I think they are?"

George touched the coin once more, but still couldn't get more than feelings of assurance and some worry. "I'm guessing so...they knew where I was going. But I can't speak with him through this, Harry."

"He's coming back." Hermione whispered, and she removed the silencing spell.

But it wasn't only Kingsley that came back; Percy was right beside him.

George felt a keen sense of relief, mixed with some dread...his brother was alive and well, which was good; Amos Diggory was apparently dead, and while that was good also, it might have other implications which were less than good.

"You do realize..." Kingsley glared at George. "That I could attempt to remove Alfred from your custody if I feel your parenting has been negligent?"

That was the last thing George had seen coming, and his world tilted for a second, until Percy answered. "Wizarding bylaws 31-7, pursuant to parent-child relationships require an immediate family member to have custody of a child in all circumstances, unless no immediate family member exists." He recited. "I think it's safe to say that there are enough Weasleys to go around here."

Geroge nearly did smile at that point, and Kingsley just shook his head. "You all misunderstand me." He said, sounding almost state-like and almost like the Kingsely George fought for. "I've sent for your father, by the way...Arthur is an old friend and maybe he will see where I am coming from. I need to do what I must, to prevent another Voldemort."

"On that note..." Percy cut in finally, "Perhaps you would care for a report from Minister Filipowski? After all, it is HIS government you have been claiming to support all this time?"

Kingsley waved them silent as Arthur was allowed to floo in to his office. George was glad to see his father, watching him dust off his robes carefully and managing to be everything integrity ought to be. Their eyes met, and Arthur gave him a reassuring smile. George knew that his father wanted the safety of his family more than anything, and that CJ was just as much a part of that family as others.

"Kingsley...I must say I am disappointed in you." Arthur began. "To have my family treated as criminals, when we've done nothing more than try to protect our own. And especially given what we have sacrificed in the past."

"I do apologize." Kingsley looked at Arthur with fondness. "Perhaps it was an over-reaction on my part...but when I discovered that the fireworks shipment was being delivered early, and without my being told...it had the potential to upset many plans."

"Perhaps," George began. "You were upset mainly because you failed to learn it from monitoring the floo at the store?"

Kingsley's eyes widened, and then his frown deepened. "How did you learn about that?"

"Filipowski wasn't trusting you any more than you trusted me, apparently." George added.

Arthur looked stunned. "Kingsley...you were spying on my SON?"

"It wasn't spying..." Kingsley protested.

"AMOS DIGGORY IS DEAD!" Percy finally shouted out, having been chomping at the bit for some time. "And YOU..." He pointed to Kingsley...killed him." Percy's voice was calmer, but stinging at the same time.

That brought the room to silence. Arthur attempted to create some form order. "Kingsley? Perhaps you can explain what you have been involved in here, as it involves my family. I think I can assure you, as one of my children gave his life for our freedom, that we are trustworthy."

Kingsley sighed hard, and then sat down in his chair, motioning the others to do so as well. George was still processing Percy's accusation, and the relieving knowledge that his brother was not going to prison in order to protect CJ.

"Yes, I killed Amos Diggory. And I did it _for_ you all. Have you forgotten that it was I who assisted you in liberating CJ from his father to begin with?" He scolded lightly.

"What I remember." George pointed out. "Is that instead of sending him to prison, as he ought to have been, you opted to promote him with a luxurious diplomatic post."

"Which kept him well away from his son." Kingsley countered. "But yes, I did opt to use him to my advantage. I needed someone who I could manipulate, and understanding Amos's weaknesses, he was perfect to my plan. But in any event, I can assure you, CJ's life was never in danger. I sent him a cursed medal for service, knowing Amos's ego, and the perverse joy he would take in thinking he had one over on me. I knew it would only be a matter of time...I gave it less than a week...that his preening and polishing would activate its curse, and it would strike him down. And thus, the unbreakable vow would be broken...AND YOUR STORE STILL STANDING." Kingsley's voice thundered. "If I had known you moved up the date..."

"Hang on..." George followed the story, with a deep frown. "Are you telling me..." He paused, and he looked with wide eyes at the Minister. "You knew what CJ was facing the _entire time?_" He started shaking, and Percy put an arm on his shoulder, gripping him firmly.

"What kind of fool would I have been if I hadn't legilimensed Amos before I made my decisions? Of course I knew that CJ had been forced to be bound to a vow." Kingsley's voice, so calm, so unapologetic, drove in to George's head with the force of a sledge hammer.

He didn't realized he'd moved until he found himself with his hands around the Minister's neck, pure rage having propelled him out of his seat and over the desk. He could kill the man...he would kill the man...for what he had let CJ suffer through for four years. The voices all around him...Percy tugging on his arm...nothing would stop him!

"Georgie..." Arthur's voice was calm, though with an undercurrent of urgency. He reached over to his son's hands. "Please let go."

"Would you, Dad?" George asked, blinking tears from his eyes. "If it had been me, or Fred, or any of us...would you let go?"

Still, Arthur's hands remained over his, and gently pried them apart. "I wouldn't want to...but I would. Because you needed me home more than you needed me in Azkaban."

George dropped Kingsley suddenly, as if he were tainted. He was still shaking, and he let his father guide him away, swallowing hard. Kingsley simply rubbed at his throat, looking shocked at the outburst.

"Do you have ANY idea..." George's voice wavered slightly. "What that boy went through? DO you? Four years of living with the terror of having to hurt those he cared about, or die? Do you _know_ what that did to him? The sleepless hours, the countless nightmares, the mind-boggling research he did to try and find a way out, because not only was he bound to destruction, he was bound to not discuss it? Do you have any idea how alone and isolated he felt? How bloody _scared _he was? You've bloody well took his childhood away from him, and nearly cost him his life!" George felt Arthur's arm drape over his shoulder, and he tried to hold himself together.

Kingsley continued rubbing his neck, though he looked somewhat abashed. "I am sorry for what he suffered, George...and I will forgive you the violence...but don't you see it was necessary, for the cause?"

Harry interrupted. "Are you telling me, Kingsley, that there was no other option?" His tone was questioning. "Would it have been so bad, at least, to let George know what the boy was facing? To help him and offer him guidance, and comfort?" Harry's head shook slightly. "Even I eventually was told what I was facing...even I was never alone."

That did seem to cause Kingsley pause. He looked surprised, and then looked to Arthur. Arthur, George noticed, was angry and hurt, and glaring back at Kingsley, as if he didn't know who this man was. "I judged that the more people who knew the plan, the more it was compromised. But it was you, George, who risked CJ's life." George just gaped at him, trembling once more, and only his father's firm grip kept him from losing his temper again.

"You moved the date." Kingsley said again. "If you hadn't done that, then Amos would have died before CJ needed to act."

"Before he needed to act." Hermione repeated back to him. "But not before he _could_ act. He could have attempted to fulfill that vow any time in the past four years."

Kingsley looked around the room. "But that was hardly likely."

"Hardly likely." George said, wearily. "Right. It was also hardly likely that Lucius Malfoy would re-bind him, but he did. Of course, you didn't know that, did you?"

Indeed, for the first time since George had gotten there, the Minister looked shocked.

Harry took up the story then. "You never finished letting me tell you about the diary, Kingsley." His voice was even and controlled. "That was what was behind CJ's recent troubles at school, Malfoy's vow. So, even with Diggory dead, you see…CJ would still have had to blow up the store. Of course, you can say Malfoy wouldn't have made that vow without moving the date up…but then, George wouldn't have moved the date if you had consulted him."

Arthur was looking around, and he rose suddenly. "Kingsley…I am requesting for you to remove your men from my home, and from anywhere else they may be watching us. I am also requesting that you let George go back to CJ, and that you cease interfering. For the sake of all that we have been through…I need you to do this."

"But the situation in Eastern Europe…" Kingsley protested.

"Is secured." Percy said, firmly. "The fireworks have been shipped. Minister Filipowski is in complete control, as he ought to be, since it is his government. You need to ensure that Malfoy cannot re-enter Britain, but otherwise, your work in that region is done." Percy repeated one more time. "Done."

Kingsley and Percy stared at each other harshly, then the Minister's shoulders sagged, and he called into the floo. "Corner? Relieve all the guards. The Weasley family is cleared."

"And the explosion on Diagon Alley, Sir?" Corner asked.

Kingsley grimaced, but continued. "An unfortunate fireworks mishap, nothing more." Corner's head disappeared, and for a few seconds silence prevailed. Kingsley turned to face George one last time. "I will have the adoption papers ready tomorrow…I am assuming you still want him?"

George tensed, and Percy and Harry had him by both arms.

Arthur spoke again. "I wouldn't ask him that again, Kingsley." He looked over at George. "Go, son…I believe you'll find all the kids at the destination." His eyes twinkled slightly. "Ginny admitted to Molly what she'd been up to before I was summonsed. I think your mother didn't know whether to kiss her or kill her."

"Both options viable." Harry grumbled.

"You two…" Arthur turned back to Harry and Hermione. "Go to The Burrow, and get things straightened out there.. Percy…" George saw Percy's determined jaw jut out, as did Arthur. "I need you here with me for a few moments."

George sighed, glad he had his father to handle this, and hoping he had correctly interpreted Alf's location. Together, the three of them walked away, and the Minister remained behind, with his father and his brother, for what purpose he could not guess.

Nor did he care at this moment. His family was safe.


	41. Ch 41 Moving foreward

The apparating went easily. Alf took a deep sigh of relief when he felt Eileen still next to him, and all of their body parts intact. And even better when he saw Teddy appear beside him. It had been a little harder than just shooting around the back yard had been, but not so terrible. "Pretty wicked, eh?" He said, as if it were the most blasé thing in the world.

"You can let go of me now, Alf." Eileen replied, tugging a this arm slightly.

Alf flushed brightly, and moved his arm. "Er...sorry." He pointedly ignored Teddy's grin, and looked towards the knoll ahead of him, concentrating on "Shell Cottage" so he could see it. And see it he did; he ran forward quickly past the apparition boundaries, Eileen and Teddy following him.

"Dad?" He called out, not too loudly, not knowing what condition CJ was in.

He was stunned when Ricky came bounding down the stairs. "Surprise!" His young cousin chimed out.

Teddy and Eileen stopped abruptly behind him. Alf found his voice. "Ricky? How on earth?"

"Dad sent me!" His eyes sparkled. "It's brilliant, isn't it? Dad knew that they weren't watching us kids and he got me out of the house and gave me permission to alert Uncle George." He nearly thrust his chest outwards in pride. "Pretty wicked, eh?" He unconsciously parroted Alf's words.

Alf felt like the life had just been sucked out of him. "Dad's not here?" He repeated. "Is he at the Ministry?" He asked, feeling vaguely sick.

"Yep. CJ's upstairs sleeping, but Uncle George went along to confront Shacklebolt...hey, how did you lot manage to get out, anyway?" Ricky realized.

"Oh, God...I am so dead!" Alf groaned. He had assumed that his father would be totally understanding about the need to apparate, because otherwise George would have been in the dark and CJ would be in danger. But now...ugh!

Teddy realized too. "We're never going to see the outside of our rooms for the rest of our lives, are we?" He paled. "Think the Ministry has noticed we're gone?"

"I told you apparating was a bad idea." Eileen insisted, though not entirely without pity.

"If they've noticed...and they find Dad and tell him we've disappeared...Hell!" Alf grabbed for his coin, and concentrating with all his might, tried to send his father what thoughts he could.

_I'm alright, I'm alright, I'm alright...we just had to get out of there...I'm alright, I'm alright, please don't kill me..._

"Can you actually talk to him doing that?" Teddy wondered.

"Not exactly...it's more like sending emotions."

"Well, you better calm down, because right now the only emotion he'll be reading is your abject fear of his wrath." Eileen smirked.

Alf took her advice, and set his shoulders. _We had to get out, but we're alright, we're with Ricky and CJ, and we're just fine...I know I shouldn't have done it, but it was for all the right reasons; we won't move from here, and we won't let anybody else in...I'm sorry._

To his shock, he felt a calm wave coming back at him...an accepting one. His father couldn't have any actual idea what he'd done, surely; he'd only know that Alf was missing...yet there was a warmth and gentleness there that was completely unexpected. A far cry from last summer, when he and CJ had simply taken Freddo for a walk and George had nearly gone berserk with worry.

He realized, calming, that though he might find himself grounded, George wasn't really angry. He understood, at some level, the step Alf had decided to take. He looked over at Teddy. "Well, he doesn't seem inclined to kill us." Alf gave a lopsided grin, his color gradually returning.

"I hope he can explain the same thing to my god-father." Teddy sighed. "And worse...I hope we don't end up being asked to rat out Aunt Ginny."

Ricky was putting everything together piecemeal, and realized what happened. "Whoa! Aunt Gin's been teaching you guys to apparate?" He got a wicked glint in his eye. "I want in!"

Teddy snorted. "Your father may have gotten more laid back, but I don't think he'd sit still for that one minute!"

Alf just shook his head. "Where is CJ, Rick? That's the important thing now."

Ricky grabbed Alf's arm, and propelled him up the stairs.

WWWWWW

Bill was helping Ginny wash dishes, just moments after Arthur had been summonsed away. Molly was still glowering in the dining room, having settled on a 'I cannot believe any daughter of mine could be so irresponsible, even if it happened to work out this time' stance. He leaned over to his sister, taking a dish from her hand. "You know Ricky will be wanting lessons next." He quipped. "As soon as this is out."

"Where is Ricky, anyway?" Ginny asked, glancing out the window. The younger kids...from Percy's daughter down to her Lily, were tumbling about the back yard. Cedric, Freddo and the twins were up in the nursery.

"Poor Rick...never quite fits in age wise with anybody." Bill commiserated with his son. "Unless Victorie's around, and even still, it's thick to be stuck spending time with your sister."

As he'd expected, Ginny shot a jet of soapy water at him, and he laughed. Then, setting his voice in a low whisper, he leaned in to his sister, letting her in on his secret. "I sent Ricky to Shell Cottage to get George."

"You WHAT?" Ginny's mouth dropped open in shock. "How?"

"Remember I was chewing him out about making to much noise and hauled him up to my old room?" Bill pointed out.

"A completely needless overreaction." She put in.

"Of course it was." Bill looked hurt. "When have I ever come down on him for something like that?" He frowned. "Actually I should be insulted that I fooled everyone as well as I did."

"So..." Ginny tactfully went back to the original point. "Exactly what did you do?"

"Showed him how to shinny down the drainpipe, told him how to get to Diggory's old place, and explained he'd need to floo to Godric's Hollow first and then floo from George's to reach home." Bill said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

It was a lot to process from her normally responsible oldest brother. She settled for the obvious. "You knew about the drainpipe?"

"You know, I used to be cool!" Bill protested. "Just because I never got _caught_..." He grumbled.

Ginny laughed, and squeezed his arm. "I usually didn't either. Poor Fred and George...everyone was always so busy watching them..."

Bill smiled once more. "Yeah, and now it looks like Alf's gotten stuck in the same trap...I was able to get Ricky out without anyone being wiser, and he's gone and made a spectacle of it." He raised eyebrows on his sister. "Are you going to tell George what you've been up to?"

"I have to, unfortunately." She sighed. "I can hardly let Alf get in to trouble for it. Harry's going to go ballistic."

Michelle had quietly entered the kitchen . "Don't worry about George." She said, calmly. "I think he knew."

"What?" Ginny gasped. "But how?"

"The boys would come in all giddy and breathless last summer, and you could just tell they were up to something. I mentioned it to George, and he just chuckled and told me not to worry." She smirked, and came over to lean on the counter. "After they went back to school, he told me this completely random story about he and Fred taught you how to apparate when you were fourteen. Well, at least I thought it was completely random."

The three of them laughed suddenly, feeling relieved. "Ricky is probably thrilled with the company." Bill added. "And honestly, I feel better with the older kids there with him."

At that moment Molly stuck her head in the door. "If you kids are done making mischief..." She scolded, though her lips twitched. "Harry has come home. It seems Arthur has worked his magic and we are no longer under observation."

They ran together in to the living room, where Harry was beginning to share with Fleur and Penny exactly what was going on. As Ginny moved towards him, he caught her eye. He raised one eyebrow, and she gave a shrug and an apologetic smile, and was relieved when with a grin, he winked at her.

WWWWWWW

Alf felt like the world fell from under him the minute he saw CJ, pale and sleeping soundly, looking so fragile in that bed. His stomach knotted, and the horror of that diary came back to him, every entry that he'd read, every plea for posthumous understanding CJ had made, hit him so hard he wasn't sure he could keep breathing. He just stood there, afraid to even move, afraid that CJ wasn't breathing and if he came forward he'd find out that it had all been for nothing after all.

He felt, through his fog, Eileen gently wrapping an arm around him, and Teddy clasping his shoulder. That was better...that was less alone than he'd been feeling. Swallowing hard, he stumbled forward towards the bed, and felt Eileen somehow helping him sit down in the nearby chair. Still, he didn't so much as blink, he just stared, wondering what sort of hell CJ had been through.

Eileen squeezed his shoulders, and to his surprise, she kissed him on the top of his head. Then he heard her tugging on Teddy's arm behind him, though their voices seemed awfully far away.

"_...need to let them be for a bit..." She hissed_

"_...my friends too..." Teddy growled._

"_...idiot. C'mon...if it were James, how would you feel?"_

He made a mental note to thank her for understanding him so well, even as the mild squabbling continued into the hallway. Until the door shut, and he was left alone with the sound of the ocean, and his own thoughts.

CJ was taller than he was, and generally looked older, though in fact he was three months younger. He could pass for seventeen easily on most days. But right now, that wasn't what Alf was seeing. What Alf was seeing was CJ Diggory, eleven years old on the Hogwarts train, giving offense to everyone around him because he simply didn't know any better. CJ, paralyzingly shy and unable to make friends easily, always staying towards the back of the class. Alf was remembering his truly lousy first days at Hogwarts, when CJ was surprisingly willing to stick out his neck for him, when he willingly sat beside Alf when even his own house wouldn't. CJ, who alerted Teddy and Eileen to Alf's problems when Alf couldn't.

It had been surprising when CJ became as close a friend as he did, at first. Alf had known Teddy longer, and Eileen was in a different category entirely. But sometimes, Alf just felt like CJ understood him better than anybody else. And once he'd moved in, the friendship had cemented in to brotherhood, gradually, so gradually neither of them had realized it. Yet there were moments where they could complete each other's sentences. Times when they could almost read each other's minds. When that happened, he began to understood what it must have been like when Fred and George were together

Right now, he wondered how on earth George had survived losing that.

Right now, he wondered how he hadn't realized how bloody desperate CJ must have been.

Alf had always known that CJ was damaged. And he'd always known it went back to before Amos's vicious attack. He'd survived a lonely, cruel childhood with the company of a ghost and a handful of house elves, and somehow he'd remained a decent person. Amos couldn't beat that out of him; he couldn't curse it out of him. And in the end, he couldn't even bind it out of him, not even with an unbreakable vow.

But he should have known. They were brothers, in any way that mattered, and he'd not known how desperate CJ had become. There was CJ, leaving him a message in his diary, begging for forgiveness, explaining needing to know what it felt like to have a girlfriend before he died, to know what it was to be happy before he died, and Alf had had no bloody clue.

He remembered after that last Quidditch match, once CJ had pulled off that miraculous scoring shot on him:

"_If you tell me you let that in on purpose, I'll kill you." CJ said indistinctly._

"_As if!" Alf scoffed. "You beat me this time. I suppose I can give you one."_

"_One is all I need, Alf."_

One was all he needed. Just one. Because there would never be a chance for another. Hell, what a fool he was! His jaw clenched tightly, and he leaned forward, grabbing hold of CJ's wrist, needing to feel his pulse, needing to know he was okay.

At the touch, CJ stirred slightly, and Alf exhaled, blinking once or twice. He watched as CJ's eyes blinked open slowly, the fog clearing from them second by second. At first, his eyes brightened, and then they clouded with worry, uncertainty, waiting for Alf's reaction.

Alf wiped at his eyes quickly, and took a deep breath, then he looked CJ in the eye.

"You IDIOT." He said, exhaling and breaking in to a grin that was half laugh, half sob at the same time.

CJ exhaled as well, grinning back and blinking back tears. "Sorry." He managed.

"I should have been reading your diary behind your back all along." Alf added, forcing himself to calm down as much as he could.

"Funny...Dad said the same thing." CJ, still half drugged, was drifting groggily. "Where is he? Where is Mum?" He added.

"Ministry for Dad. Mum...long story there. But it's fine." Alf squeezed CJ's arm again, and his brother's dark eyes opened once more.

"Are they mad?" He whispered. "The rest of the family. What I did..."

"Shut up." Alf said, and again, "Idiot." Seeing CJ still worrying, he kept on. "Nobody is angry at you, CJ. We're all angry at ourselves for not realizing what was going on, or even that something was going on. Especially me. I feel like a jerk, Ceej. I should have known."

CJ sighed once more, half turning to Alf. "You gave me the diary." He pointed out. "Without that, I would be dead now. Without that, it's all over."

Alf swallowed, trying to stuff aside the mass of feelings he was dealing with. "It's just, I feel like...I mean, I'm a lousy..." He hesitated.

"Brother." CJ finished. "And no, you're not. I am. I mean, I blew up your entire legacy."

"Oh, bollocks to that." Alf managed a laugh. "The _business_ is fine, the building is gone." He smirked. "Actually, I owe you one for that." Seeing the confusion, he quipped. "This pretty much has to end Dad's jokes about me blowing up the store when I first got here."

That got a little bit of a chuckle, and CJ sank back down into the bed. "Hang about for a bit?" He asked.

"Like there's a shot in hell of me leaving." Alf scoffed, and then added sheepishly. "And once Dad gets back I'm probably not going to go anywhere again, ever. Teddy, Eileen and I apparated here. He's going to kill me."

CJ's eyes wide. "You did what? Who's the idiot now?" He gasped, and then chuckled again. "I suspect he may let you live, considering."

"Maybe." Alf admitted, again gently fingering that coin at his neck, still feeling warmth from it. "Anyway, I'm not going anywhere."

He watched as CJ fell asleep again, feeling less like a failure of a brother, more relief at the family getting through this crisis, and he thought again over and over about the moments during the past four years, the little things that had molded them into a family. A family for which he was exceptionally grateful, and always would be.

So deep in thought was he that he never heard anyone else enter the room, until a hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up, and in to his father's eyes.

He managed a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

George enlarged the chair slightly, and squeezed in next to Alf, hugging him close. "It's okay."

Alf blinked...that was IT? No lecture, even? He glanced up at George suspiciously. "You're not angry?" He repeated in disbelief.

"I'm too tired to be angry, kiddo." Alf watched as his father rubbed at his chin, just now noticing the stubble. "Besides, it wasn't necessarily the wrong thing to do...you had no way of knowing Bill'd sent Ricky. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have been subtle enough to do it the way you did. I have no doubt that had it been me and Fred corralled up somewhere, an explosion would have been involved."

"I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't felt desperate." Alf felt compelled to explain. And then, he added, "But please don't ask me who taught us!"

George snorted. "As if I need to...Ginny thought she had one over on me, alright. Wait until James gets a little older!"

Alf smiled, and then let himself lean against his father, though really he was too old for this. Still, it felt nice, and at the moment, he didn't mind being a kid. He felt George rest his chin on his head, and then say quietly, "Just promise me you won't do it again, or _angry_ won't begin to describe my reaction."

"Promise." Alf said at once. "What is going on, Dad?"

He felt his father sigh. "To make it short, Amos is dead, I nearly took out Kingsley, he finally caved on letting me adopt CJ, and Dad and Uncle Percy are straightening things up at the Ministry. And I need to talk to Ron about what to do with the Diagon Alley space...and you do realize that you boys are due to go back to school tomorrow?"

Alf looked up at him in alarm. "CJ won't be ready yet, Dad...and I don't want to go back with out him!"

Gentle blue eyes twinkled down at him. "Agreed on both accounts. I'll speak to McGonagall about it, but I don't see a problem with delaying your return for another week. Mind, Michelle will be bringing back all of your work, you know!"

Alf sighed in relief. He should have known his father would understand. George _always_ understood...well, except when he was in the middle of a breakdown last summer, but that was an aberration. "Teddy and Eileen still downstairs?"

"Playing exploding snap with Ricky. And before you ask, I explained to Harry. Ginny may be the only person actually in trouble, come to think of it." George grinned.

"Nah, Uncle Harry will be fine." Alf relaxed in to his father. "It's hard to believe they haven't always been in love."

"Life is funny that way, kiddo." George chuckled. "You think you know everything when your sixteen, and sometimes it turns out you knew nothing at all...like me. And sometimes, like Ginny, you know it before anybody else is smart enough to figure it out." He yawned.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Dad." Alf nudged him. "Everyone seems to have things in control, for now." Alf narrowed his eyes. "I know an excellent relaxation spell…" He threatened.

"Enough with the underage magic." George poked him, though he leaned back and did let his eyes drift a bit. "Don't force me to have to pretend to be a father."

"You're not pretending." Alf spoke softly as he noticed George too was falling asleep. "You're the best one there is."

WWWWWWW

Percy had, after everyone else had left, given a full report to Shacklebolt on the status of Eastern Europe. Kingsley had seemed to age after the earlier confrontation, but was trying to pull together his usual stately air as the meeting went on. They even went so far as to speak via floo with Filipowski, and confirm that all went well with the fireworks transfer and that Filipowski was now taking total and complete control over their battle with their dark wizards. He would, of course, feel free to call upon the British if they needed help, or advice.

There was still some worry about Lucius Malfoy, and Shacklebolt requested that whomever Filipowski's most trusted spy was, would give them frequent reports on what the exiled wizard was up to. That, Filipowski was more than happy to accommodate, and Percy, with a nod, had been dismissed from the room. He looked Arthur a question, but Arthur just shook his head, and it was understood: Arthur wasn't done with Kingsley yet.

"Alright, Dad." Percy nodded. "I'm going to run by Ron at the warehouses for a bit, and then collect my family. See you at the Burrow?"

"Indeed, Son." Arthur gave Percy a strong smile, and then waited until the door closed .

He and Kingsley stared at each other for some time, before the Minister went to a cabinet and poured out two glasses of firewhiskey. He handed one to Arthur, with a tired look. "We've been friends for a long time, haven't we?"

"Back to our own days at Hogwarts." Arthur affirmed, eventually taking the glass. "Which is why everything that transpired is so shocking to me, Kingsley. You are the last man I would have thought would let power go to his head."

Kingsley held up the glass in salute, and tossed it back with a grimace. "I haven't, Arthur. I swear, whatever else I was thinking, it wasn't about power."

"No?" Arthur asked, sipping more gently. "Isn't it, though? The power of saving another realm, as you once saved this one."

"I _didn't_ save this one." Kingsley pointed out. "Not nearly as much as I got credit for, anyway; you could not have had a more team effort, all spearheaded by a seventeen year old boy."

"Please tell me you don't still think that Harry wants your job." Arthur gaped.

Kingsley sighed, and sat down, putting his feet up on a coffee table. "No, I don't suppose I do any longer, though I've doubted that for some time. I suppose more than anything I've always been embarrassed…such credit I was given for what happened with Voldemort, and so little did I deserve it."

"Nobody deserved it more." Arthur protested. "Kingsley, you were a man of integrity in a time where few had any, and if they did, little did they show it." Arthur sat across from him. "That is what makes this so strange. So, you tell me it wasn't about power. What, then?"

"Boredom." Kingsley must have seen the look on Arthur's face, fore he laughed out loud. "There's your integrity, Arthur. For ten years I cleaned up Britain, made sure that there was no shot in hell we'd have another Voldemort. And then I wake up one morning and the biggest problem of my day is whether or not to allow flying carpets over isolated regions. And the next day, the problem is the quality of wood available for wand use. And the day after that, there are NO PROBLEMS."

"But…" Arthur felt utterly confused. "But that was the POINT, Kingsley. To not have to wake up every morning and worry if there is an uprising, if muggles are being tortured if…if…" Arthur's voice nearly failed him. "If all of your children will make it home."

Kingsley looked over at Arthur with real affection then. "Perhaps if I had ever had a family, I would understand as well, Arthur. I've never had more at risk than my own life." He inhaled. "Until, of course, this period, when I seem to have risked the life of one of your grandchildren. Though I never thought of CJ that way…only as Amos's son."

Arthur shook his head. "Even if he weren't my grandchild, however he came to BE my grandchild, using him was still wrong."

"Perhaps." Kingsley sighed deeply, staring out towards the office. "Sixteen years ago, this coming May, I was elected unanimously to this post. I believe, Arthur, that I have held it for too long. I am a wartime politician, and we need somebody equipped for peace. I will announce my retirement tomorrow."

Arthur would not have believed he wasn't talking his longtime friend from this insanity. But he couldn't. The events of the past two days, and everything they represented clearly showed that it was time for his old friend to move on. "What shall you do, then?"

Kingsley grinned. "Offer my services to others, of course. Perhaps set up an Auror program in Eastern Europe. I am still a good Auror, you know. It's just that I'm no politician." Something like understanding dawned on his face then. "And for the first time, I do believe that Harry has no desire to succeed me."

"He's no politician either." Arthur concurred. "As he's stated repeatedly." Arthur rose. "I must go home, Kingsley."

"Give my best to Molly." He said automatically.

Privately, Arthur thought that he'd refrain from mentioning his old friend's name around his wife for some time. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd have an opinion or twenty about his actions. He suspected that Kingsley knew it, too, based on the way his eyes were twinkling.

WWWWWWW

CJ woke up in the late afternoon. He turned his head to see if Alf was still sitting in the chair opposite him, and instead found Michelle sitting on the bed beside him.

"Hey, Ceej." She said immediately, checking his forehead to see if he had a fever. "Well, I will say, this wasn't the restful Easter break I was counting on.

He blushed, but before he could apologize, she kissed him on the forehead. "I wish I could have shared your burden; I would have done it gladly."

"As everyone keeps telling me." CJ admitted.

"Well, everyone is just being honest. Everyone loves you. You do know that, right?" CJ felt his face growing warm again, though he took her hand as she stretched it out to him, easing him up into a sitting position. "That's why we moved heaven and earth to save you. This family is the most powerful force you could ever ask for. And nobody is going to stand in our way." She motioned to a pile of clothes. "Now, get changed, and let's get you home, hm? If I leave your little sisters under the control of your Aunt Fleur for much longer, she'll have them wearing enough pink lace to cover the Isle of Wight."

He gave her an understanding grin. "Thanks." And then, finally feeling that he'd earned the right to say it: "Mum."

Michelle blinked at him, and it looked like she might not be able to speak for a bit, but she did find her voice. "G'on, now. You have an extra week's break at school, courtesy of the Headmistress, as does Alf, but the rest of the kids have to leave tomorrow. And you'll need the rest; I'm going to be going over your lessons with you both!" And with a rush, she came forward and hugged him. "I love you…have I mentioned that bit yet?"

"Understood." He said, gruffly. And watched as she walked away.

As he began to get dressed, he heard voices from outside. An impromptu Quidditch match had broken out on the lawn, with George, Bill, Ricky, Alf, Teddy, Ginny and Harry…Eileen was to the side, holding Freddo and cheering them on.

Then, the front door banged open. "Lemonade!" Victoire, having apparently just arrived home, ran out to the game, and a slew of thirsty players joined in. Behind her, he spotted a familiar head of dark brown hair; as he watched, she turned back towards the house, looking up as if she had felt his eyes on her.

Alf's half-sister, Liv.

Their eyes met, hers worried until she spotted him, and then he saw relief on her face, and she smiled, waving up at him quite calmly, as if nothing strange had happened the whole break, as if he hadn't had more than a case of spattergoit. CJ managed a wave back, and a return smile, and as he did so, she winked at him. Eileen caught the end of the interchange, and she too looked at him, with an exclamation, and soon the entire field of players…his family…was waving up at him and urging him to come on down.

He made a motion as if to say, "One minute." And turned away from the view.

_Eileen_, he thought quietly. _It does seem that perhaps divination isn't as much shite as we'd always thought._

_Bad news for you and Alf, though!_

WWWWWWW

Author's note: There will be one more chapter and an epilogue before the saga ends. Thanks to everyone for reading!


	42. Ch 42 Don't Look Back

Percy paced nervously, waiting for George in his back garden. He'd asked Michelle if his brother were up yet, and had seen her reading the expression on his face; the expression that said that Percy was there for distasteful reasons. Still, she had gone to get him...it was just after noon and George was up with Freddo, though the boys were still in their rooms.

The past two days had been eventful and ugly in so many ways, though in the end the family had come through, yet again. Thanks to each other and their friends. What he'd learned about Kinsgley had been disturbing; equally disturbing in his thoughts was the knowledge that Shacklebolt was to step down. He was honestly worried about who the next minister would be, and how they would move forward. Percy had served under four ministers, the first three in a four year period. And he didn't like change, however much Kingsley's behavior had upset him.

But that was the future...as for the now, Kingsley was still in charge and had one request from Percy, and that was why he was here.

"Hey, Perce." George looked considerably better rested then when Percy had seen him yesterday, and the lines of worry were greatly reduced. "Glad to see you...though my wife does seem to think you're up to something." George sat at the picnic table, motioning to him to do the same.

"She is a very smart woman." Percy leaned forward on his elbows. "Because I'm here for business, and I don't like it."

George's eyes narrowed. "Has Kingsley decided to deny the adoption as his last official act of annoying me?" He bristled.

Percy raised his brows. "You know he's stepping down?" Seeing George's slight, tense, nod, Percy continued. "The adoption is not going to be a problem, George...but before it can go on..." He steeled himself with a deep breath. "CJ needs to be officially questioned by the Ministry about his role in this mess."

George's face went dark. "Are you KIDDING me, Perce? Like the kid hasn't been through enough...four years of torment at his own bloody father's hands, and you want to interrogate him?!" He fumed, growing angrier.

"Not interrogate..._question_...and believe me, I wouldn't be happy either, if it were one of my kids. But if we don't take a statement from him, if we leave any potential lead unlooked at and something backfires, he could be the first one suffering." Percy tried to rationalize with his brother.

George wasn't having any of it. "I'll not have some Auror bullying him into admitting something he's not responsible for. He's still wracked with guilt over what he was forced to do; I can see it in his eyes, however much of a brave front he tried to put up yesterday. Some heavy handed goon could get him to admit to being culpable for anything from global warming to the muggle oil crisis, the way he is right now."

"George, the ministry hasn't sent a heavy handed goon...they've sent me." Percy grabbed George's forearm. "And I am not going to force him to take verisitaserum, or force my way into his mind. I won't do anything to harm him, but George, we need to do this. For everyone's sake."

Exhaling slightly, his younger brother looked at him cautiously, and then gave another slight nod. "Can I be in the room with you?"

Percy hesitated. "He might speak more freely with you not there. Excepting, of course, the things that we know he still can't discuss, like Malfoy." A very distinct twinkle came up in Percy's eyes. "I would expect that the man who invented extendable ears would find his own way of listening in to make certain his son isn't being taken advantage of."

George deflated a bit, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Good point..." He looked Percy in the eye. "Not that I think you _would_ take advantage of him, Perce...I just...I feel like I've let him down badly, not realizing what he was enduring. I can't let that happen again."

"Now who's taking responsibility for things unnecessarily?" Percy quipped. They rose together, walking in to the house; Percy placed his hand on George's arm as they reached the stairs. "At first I balked at being the one asked to do this...but then I saw, it shouldn't be anybody else."

"I would have refused anyone else." George said, shortly, as they came up to CJ's shut door. Knocking quietly, he opened it at CJ's low, "Come in."

CJ was sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of his diary, lost in thought. He looked up as George peaked around the door, and gave a rather tight smile. "M'okay, Dad...just, well, thinking."

"Stop." George quipped gently, then he stepped to the side and let Percy enter. Percy saw George's concern radiating from his very pores as he just moved to squeeze CJ on the shoulder. "Percy needs to ask you some questions on behalf of the ministry. It's all going to be okay..." He soothed immediately, though CJ hadn't so much as blinked. "And though I can't be here, I won't be far away."

CJ surprised them both with a brave smile. "I pretty much expected something like this. Surprised they'd let Uncle Percy be the one, actually. It's okay, Dad."

George sighed hard, gave Percy a pointed look, and then left them. For Percy, it was the first time he'd seen one of George's kids rooms, and he was looking around at the array of magical creatures with some awe. "I ought to have Michelle decorate Perri's room when we redo it."

"She's good." CJ replied. He turned the chair about to face his Uncle, and Percy sat down on the bed, across from him. "Especially when you consider that she didn't have to."

Perry gave his nephew a searching look. "Why would you say that?" He asked, thinking perhaps that gently skirting the issues might help him to understand what to write in a report.

CJ leaned back in the seat with a half shrug. "Oh, it was nice of her, I mean...but at the time, certainly, she could hardly have thought of me in the same way she does Alf. Nobody knew how long I'd be here, not even me."

"Were you worried you would have to go back to your father, even after what he'd done to you?" Percy met his nephew's eye, trying to remain neutral. "I know at the time we didn't know the worst of it, but even what we did know was pretty damned bad."

"You mean the cruciatus." CJ grimaced. "Yeah, it was bad...but even still, it's not like anything happened to my father for doing it, right? You brought me here, to stay with George, which was life saving, but _he_ got a promotion out of it. I mean, I was never really sure that if he showed up back here I wouldn't be handed over to him."

Percy cringed. He'd never really thought about it from CJ's point of view like that, but certainly everything he said was true enough. "George would not have let that happen."

"Right." CJ's lips twisted. "I know he really believes that. But he couldn't really have stopped it, could he have? Not if the Minister wanted me moved."

Feeling sick, Percy reached forward and grabbed CJ's hands...this was not happening the way he'd planned it. "George loves you, CJ." He urged.

Paling slightly, CJ blinked hard. "Of course I know that." He said, slightly awed. "After what happened two nights ago, how could I ever doubt that? But that isn't the point...how much could I expect him to sacrifice for _me_? If the minister had wanted me sent to Croatia to help my father, I couldn't expect George to risk arrest, to risk losing Alf or Freddo or the twins, to stop it. I wouldn't have let him."

Deciding to move forward, Percy still maintained a hold on CJ's hands. "I know your father placed you under that vow the same time he nearly killed you with curses. But how long have you known that your father had a vendetta against George?"

"My whole life." CJ replied, calming slightly at the shift in questioning. "I always knew he hated the Weasleys, and Harry Potter. If I made the mistake of even mentioning Harry's name I wouldn't be able to move for a week by the time he was done with me. I grew up, pretty much, being told that you were evil, all the Weasleys, but that George was the worst of all, and my father kept saying the only reason I was in this world was to help him bring George down."

"Your whole life." Percy repeated. "So...is that what you still believed when you got to Hogwarts, that the family was evil? What changed your mind about what he tried to, for lack of a better term, beat in to you?"

CJ kept a careful eye on Percy. "Well, I had the house elves...they're here now, you know. They were my Mum's, and after her death they swore themselves to caring for me, though technically they were free. But..." He let his shoulders sag. "I'm afraid you will think I'm barmy if I tell you this."

Percy held his hands out, palms up and open. "This isn't being recorded in any way, CJ. What I write in my report is my own choosing. I just want to understand everything that led up to the events two nights ago."

"Right." CJ looked at Percy, his eyes pleading for understanding. "My brother Cedric was usually with me."

Percy felt like he'd been hit by a bludger. "Come again?"

"I should say the ghost of my brother Cedric was usually with me." CJ answered once more. "I don't pretend to understand how its even possible, but for as long as I can remember, until I came here, he was there for me. He helped take care of me. He..." CJ swallowed hard. "I believe he loved me. And he kept telling me that my father's reality wasn't, in fact, real. That there was a lot more to the world than the narrow slice of revenge he lived by." CJ's grin came back. "And that's going to be difficult to put in a report, I would imagine."

"We _are_ wizards, CJ, it's not like we don't believe in ghosts." Percy replied, though he was strangely shaken. "So...did you _ever_ believe the things your father told you?"

"I let him believe that I believed them." CJ replied. "But as I got older, and I had some idea from Cedric what madness was, then I understood him to be mad. Not that it made it any easier when he was beating the snot out of me for failing him in some way."

"I would imagine not." Percy took off his glasses, polishing them slowly. "And what of other matters, CJ? Did you ever hear him involved with any other dark wizards or plots that would bring down our ministry, or another?" He said as he perched his specs once more on his face.

"Not really. He was utterly obsessed with Wheezes; to him, it represented Cedric's death and the injustice behind it. NOTHING else mattered to him."

"And yet Lucius Malfoy..." Percy pressed. "Was the witness to that first vow, the one we can discuss. And we know that Lucius is actively involved in the dark side."

CJ thought for a moment, chewing on his lower lip as he worked things out. "I think they were using each other. My father, offering his services because Malfoy was going to enable him to achieve his goals; Malfoy, because what my father was offering enabled him to achieve his. But I don't believe my father ever cared much about dark wizards, or any bigger motives. His entire life was bound up in revenge. If helping a political coup would get him closer, then well and good."

Percy nodded slowly. That made sense to him. And it was the answer he wanted...the ministry had feared that there might be other vows CJ was subject to, other influences his father may have had. "Can I ask, CJ, what exactly prompted you to get to know Alfred in the first place? Was that part of your father's plan?"

The look on CJ's face was more wonder than surprise. "When I got to school, I didn't plan on being friends with Alf. I tried hard not to be. I was afraid that if I got too close, that my father could use that somehow. And that was before the vow." CJ looked at Percy earnestly. "Understand that my social skills were pretty lacking, anyway. When I got to Hogwarts, all I wanted was to lay low, get an education, and get the hell away from Amos Diggory. Yet, just the way things happened..." He looked down at his hands. "Alf and I, both on the bad side of Professor Morgainne. Alf and I, in all our classes together first year. Alf being on the outs with his own house, and me not able to see him just tossed aside like that. And then once Alf decided I was a friend...well, _you _know what he's like. There wasn't a shot of my not knowing him then. So I played it off to my father like a double agent, like I was pretending " Again, his very serious gaze met Percy's. "I was so scared then; I didn't want to get too close to the family, because I was afraid of where it would lead. Yet the closer I became, the harder it was to pull away. This...is everything I'd ever hoped to have when I was a kid. It...it..."

Percy stood and hugged CJ close to him. "It was hell that you went through." Percy finished. "And the ministry made that hell worse, CJ. For which I apologize, even though I didn't know it."

CJ wiped at his eyes, composing himself. "I know _you_ wanted to see Amos put in prison back then. I remember that. I know it wasn't you." He pushed back the chair slightly, letting go of Percy's robes. "How much trouble am I in? I am quite sure I broke a lot of laws. I know everyone keeps telling me that isn't so, but I did, didn't I?"

"Well, you have pretty much shot the decree against underage magic laws to hell." Percy rubbed CJ's head gently. "But CJ, you were not acting of your own accord when you blew up the store. There is precedence for absolving illegal actions being taken under duress. And frankly, if the Minister had acted on his information at the time, we could have found a way to spare you much of this agony."

Confused, his nephew looked up at him. "I don't understand?"

Taking a deep breath, Percy told CJ what he'd rather not have been the truth. "The Minister knew about the vow, CJ. He legilimensed Amos."

What little color CJ had left him. His hands trembled in his lap, and his eyes went darker, wider, and his face paler. He was breathing rapidly. Percy held his breath.

Without warning, CJ sprang up; reaching over for a heavy paperweight, he threw it full force at the window, shattering it, and Percy backed away. Overcome with rage, anything that could be thrown was...books, shoes, a bludger...CJ sent his entire room flying. Percy saw George burst in, and he backed away as his brother barely managed to get to CJ before he threw the cage that contained his pygmy puff.

"Ceej...no...you don't want to do that." George's grip was firm, his arms around CJ, who was panting in rage, face soaked with tears. "I know you don't want to do that, Ceej." George said, trying to sound calm. "Let's put the cage down." Percy watched as a trembling CJ let George guide his hands, gently placing the cage on the desk.

Then CJ broke down in to sobs; George just engulfed him tightly. He looked up and caught Percy's eye.

"Wait downstairs." George whispered.

Reluctantly, and sorry he'd somehow pushed CJ over the edge, Percy complied.

WWWWWWW

It was an hour before George came downstairs. Percy had been forced to explain to Michelle and Alf what he'd said, and the net result was an hour with Alf giving Percy nasty sidelong glances and Michelle storming about without words. But George's appearance brought all of their attention on to him.

"I'm sorry..." Percy started.

George held up a hand. "Don't be. You told him what he needed to know, Perce, although I should have foreseen that with the amount of strain he's been under, he might crack." George ran his hands through his hair, and looked over to his wife and then to Alf. "As it happens, hearing about what Shacklebolt did is the first thing that made him consider this mess might not be his fault."

Michelle came up behind Alf, wiping her hands. "Surely he can't still blame himself, George?"

George snorted. "I think that he would have always felt guilty about destroying the store, no matter how many times I would tell him that a building doesn't matter. But now that he realizes that Shacklebolt could have prevented the whole mess, he's seeing just how much of a pawn he really was. He's _angry_, but I'd rather have that than have him eaten with guilt."

"He should be angry." Percy said softly. "But George, it isn't really accurate to say that Kingsley could have prevented anything; a vow is a vow."

"He could have killed Amos a whole lot sooner and broken the vow." Michelle put in. "Oh, I know it's not the 'correct' thing to do, but bloody hell, the man would have sacrificed the life of his child. I'd have no qualms about taking him out."

"Remind me..." George said, looking slightly awed. "Never to piss you off, Shell."

"I think she's right." Alf replied. "I don't mean Amos should have been assassinated or anything...but a legal sentence of death must be justified in this kind of circumstance."

"_I_ was actually thinking that if I'd been told what was happening, I could have done a proper demolition and just used CJ to throw the fuse. I could have done that three and a half years ago. And he wouldn't have suffered like he has."

Percy crossed his arms. "Well, it's all useless speculation, anyway. Done is done, and Kingsley is stepping down, as you know. I just hope that the next idiot we get in office is better prepared to be a peacetime minister." George, Michelle and Alf all stared at him. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Er...Percy...I know _Harry_ would rather stick a broomstick in his eye than go for it, but aren't you...I mean..." George looked at him, fumbling for words.

"Bloody hell, we assumed you'd throw your hat in the ring, Percy." Michelle blurted out.

That got him laughing, something he wasn't expecting to do today. "Me, minister? I don't think so."

"But Uncle Percy...wouldn't you want to be minister?" Alf asked. "I mean, you're really good at what you do, and your much more sensible than Minister Shacklebolt."

"There is no way in hell I would ever get elected. Though I am flattered you think I might, Alf." He said, with a smile.

"Percy...I'm not kidding." George kept on. "From what Dad told me, you've pretty much been Kingsley's strongest under-minister since Dad left. Harry might be the chief Auror, but as I think we've all seen, an AUROR isn't what we need right now. And why wouldn't you get elected?"

"I'm not exactly a war hero, George." Percy said, acerbically. "Everyone knows I stayed at the ministry up until the Battle of Hogwarts. I am not the stuff that leadership is made of."

"Stop." George came up to him and grasped his arms. "You are the leader we need now. Look what you went through...what you risked...in Croatia. And look who came away with the international relationships...its you Filipowski trusts now. Percy, you understand every aspect of the ministry, from international travel to muggle relations, to bloody cauldron thickness." Percy just kept gaping at him, in shock.. George took one last shot. "DAD thinks you'd be a shoe in."

"Dad thinks that?" Percy came up short then, not really sure he'd heard right. "Our Dad?"

"I wasn't talking about somebody else's father."

Percy thought that over, feeling a little queasy. Did Arthur really think...really think he could do this? "But what if I lose?" He mused, weakly.

"Well, if you don't run, you definitely won't win." Alf pointed out.

"If you don't win, it just means we're still smarter than most wizards." George added.

"I'll...I'll talk it over with Penny. I mean, of course I grew up wondering what it would be like to be minister...what kid doesn't..." He caught George's eye. "Except for those who dreamt of sending the minister dung." He added.

"That was a fertilizer sample." George grinned. "And you weren't minister yet."

Percy gave a weak smile to his brother. "I'll think it over. Meanwhile, CJ..." He paused as George narrowed his eyes. "Don't worry about it, George. The report...though Kingsley won't like it...will pretty much be having the ministry take the fall. Too many variables not considered. No reason it should go on his record at all. And every reason to get that adoption moving."

"See...you're brilliant _already_ Uncle Percy." Alf smiled.

Percy rose to go, still stunned about the whole conversation. And about something else...something in CJ's story that had shaken him. "Walk me out, George? I think I'll apparate tonight."

They headed side by side in to the back yards and the farthest fields, by George's garden. "What's wrong, Percy?"

"You listened to when I was talking to CJ, I assume?" Seeing George nod, he went on, "You heard what he said about Cedric?"

"I did." George nodded. "Don't you believe him?"

"I do, actually. There had to be some reason the boy had grown up sane when under the control of a mad man. But, doesn't it make you wonder...about Fred?"

They looked at each other. Percy searched his little brother's face for some sign of disturbance or concern. Or hurt. George mulled over the question very carefully.

"I've often felt Fred's presence, Percy, and seen him in dreams. Sometimes I've wondered if it were just wishful thinking, but mostly I think he's there, you know? Keeping an eye on us, probably laughing his arse off. I like thinking that, and I don't want to change."

"But you haven't seen him as a ghost?" Percy persisted.

George rubbed his chin. "Ghosts...they're usually people with serious unfinished business. Like the Bloody Baron or Professor Binns. That's not Fred, Perce...I mean, he didn't want to leave, I know, but he knew we were all there for each other, even with as messed up as I was. He didn't leave us alone. Cedric...Cedric must have seen how CJ needed him. And once Cedric saw CJ was safe...or safer, at least…he stopped. I don't pretend to understand the other side, Perce, but...well, that's what I believe."

"Right." Percy sighed. "I guess, you know, I would really like to have seen Fred once. To tell him I was sorry I didn't save him, that I wished it had all been different."

"What makes you so bloody sure he doesn't know that?"

"Well, clearly you believe he does." He managed a wan smile. "I guess I'm just a more tangible kind of guy. I'd have liked some proof."

At that moment, a lawn gnome darted out from under a bush, through Percy's legs, knocking him flat on his behind. Rufus the cat emerged in close pursuit of the knobby creature, using Percy's face as a launching pad.

George nearly doubled over laughing. "Proof enough?"

"Shut up and help me up..." Percy laughed back. "Or I'll tax your business into oblivion!"

WWWWWWW

"Well, look who decided to show up to finish the term." Teddy looked up from "their" table as CJ and Alf arrived for breakfast on Sunday, the 27th. Eileen was there also, and CJ and Alf sat down opposite each other. Teddy's grin was wide and relieved, despite his teasing words. Eileen just reached over and squeezed CJ's arm.

"Oh, we figured that OWLS might just be a good idea, if we want to continue living at home and all." Alf joked. "We just had a twenty minute lecture from the headmistress about how, though she was excessively glad to see CJ recovered, we should not expect to have things just handed to us on a silver platter."

"Except, of course, for the house points." Eileen nudged CJ, who was sitting beside her. He looked up at the counters, and raised his eyebrows.

"What happened?" He asked. Slytherin was back in the lead.

Teddy made a showy grimace, his eyes were still twinkling. "After it was discovered that your drunken adventure was actually more like a kidnapping, McGonagall re-added the points you'd lost from it."

CJ blushed. "I don't know if that's particularly appropriate…" Teddy, Eileen, and Alf all went to cuff CJ up side the head at the same time. "Ow…alright, geroff me…" He ducked away, and then laughed. "Well, I guess if a _Gryffindor_ can accept it, I have no choice."

"Two Gryffindors!" Ricky came up from behind CJ, grinning wickedly. "And maybe even Professor Morgainne, although it's doubtful you'll ever get her to admit it."

For a few moments there was a burble of light hearted laughter from the group, as Teddy filled them in on what had happened during the previous week, and checked with them about their respective home work, which they knew Alf and CJ would have kept up with. CJ let the conversation go on around him, not participating so much, though that was hardly new. He'd always been the quiet one. But he was enjoying just being there, just being surrounded by so many people who mattered to him

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Liv across the great hall. She looked like she was considering approaching them, but she'd hesitated for a moment.

"Excuse me." He nudged Alf gently. "I, uh, need a minute."

Alf stopped mid-sentence, realized where CJ was looking, and raised his eyebrows. "Just remember I reserve the right to kill you if you screw it up." He said, under his breath.

CJ grinned back. "Makes the events of the past week rather pointless, then." He understood, of course, what Alf meant, but he was entirely sure that there was no screwing this up. After everything he'd managed to survive against all odds, he believed in that dream more than ever before.

WWWWWWW

Ron looked up from the bursting at the seams Hogsmeade branch...the only branch at the moment…to see his brother and partner pop in to the store. It was just before opening on Sunday morning. "Bring the boys back to school, then?" He guessed.

"Yeah. I do hope CJ is really ready, but I feel pretty comfortable with his friends around him." George admitted. "I know he's putting up a good front, but there must be a few scars still there."

"Not for long. You'll get him past it, George." Ron leaned backwards. "Can I hope that you're going to tell me how brilliant I am for that warehouse?" He teased, fully expecting George to come up with some witty rejoinder that would pretend to downplay his role.

"Actually, yes…that's exactly what I'm planning on telling you." George looked around the store. "I do hope you'll let it go to your head."

"I…come again?" Ron gaped. "You mean I _shouldn't_ let it go to my head, right?"

"On the contrary, Ronald." George folded his arms in front of him. "As the Executive Partner in Charge of Business Development, I am counting on your brain to come up with a few more ideas."

Ron fidgeted slightly. "That's quite the title, George. I'm still not sure what you mean."

George counted slowly. "First, we need a new, bigger, and better than ever Diagon Alley branch, Ron. And as brilliant as I am with inventing product, I am a complete mess dealing with contractors. That behemouth was your vision…I admit that I never really saw it being so necessary, and yet it saved our arses. So, no questions from me…you build it. To how you envision it. I am entrusting that to you."

"Oi." Ron blinked slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Bloody positive. I'd like it to be preferably ready to go by Christmas. And then…" He continued.

Ron repeated, "And THEN?"

"And then branches. We've got an in with the Croatia government at the moment…if my light show goes of as I expect, I see no reason not to have a Dubrovnik branch. And then America…Salem, of course, and maybe New Orleans; we should talk to Eileen Prince's father there…"

"Whoa." Ron held up his hands. "Not that I'm disagreeing with you, George; I think it's all bloody brilliant, actually, but what brought this on?"

George came to a stop, arms arrested mid conversation, for he'd been swinging them enthusiastically. "CJ did, I suppose. I mean, I told him when everything went down, that the _building_ hadn't been the dream, wasn't what got Fred and I going; it was the _business_. And frankly, Diagon Alley was never supposed to be the end, it was supposed to be the beginning. This never started out as a small dream, Ron. And I'd let it become one."

"We're quite successful, George…you can hardly call the business small." Ron protested.

"Worse than small, then; mediocre. Small is intentional, mediocre is what happens when you stop trying. Ron, I'm not kidding…you have the business sense to take this outward…and I have the product sense to keep it growing. And we'll never have a better chance than now." George looked imploringly at his younger brother. "Say you'll do this?"

Ron laughed out loud. "I actually already have plans going for the Diagon Alley rebuild, buying out our neighbors…frankly, I thought you'd balk!"

"One step ahead again, Ron!" George looked at the door. "Oi, you're two minutes late opening; just because you're a big shot now doesn't mean you get to keep the customers waiting!"

"Well, let's see you man a register, big brother." Ron quipped. "While I go get those blueprints!"

WWWWWWW

CJ and Liv hadn't said a word to each other; but once he got up to her, she hooked her arm in his, and together they left the hall, and strolled together down by the lake.

They were silent the entire time, until they found themselves sitting on a bench, watching a group of neon-green aquaducks pass by. CJ spoke first. "I love that you don't need me to say things to understand me." He said, afraid to look over at her.

"I love that I understand you without you saying anything." She replied. "So, not going to try and get back together with Miki, then?"

That did get him to look at her. "I would never have gotten together with her to begin with, Liv, except I didn't want you mixed up in the mess I was dealing with. I was afraid of how much you understood me, when I couldn't see how I was going to get out of things."

"I know…now." She sighed. "We've always seemed to understand each other, Ceej. But I knew you couldn't ask me to the ball if you wanted to. Still, I was surprised that Miki seemed to stick. She didn't seem right for you."

"She wasn't." CJ looked at live very earnestly. "Look, I know I'm not charming, or even funny most of the time, but Liv, I've always thought that we…we belonged together, somehow. I know you're only fourteen…"

"I'll be fifteen in November." She said importantly.

"Right. But that's not the point…wait, aren't you going to argue with me about not being charming?" CJ paused.

"I'm not a snake; I don't need to be charmed." She tossed her hair about. "I prefer serious and brooding, with a hidden sense of humor that is even funnier because it's surprising." She teased him. "I like especially when Alf gets you rolling and then the two of you start speaking in half sentences; it's a comedy routine of the highest order."

CJ's lips twitched slightly. "You are so clearly not like anybody else, Liv."

"And you're complaining?" She added.

CJ just took her hand. A mother duck waddled out of the water, her brood of ducklings following. CJ watched her protectively guide them back to their nest. "I've never been a complainer, Liv." He paused. "It's nice to actually have that be because I don't need to."

WWWWWWW

Eileen and Alf found themselves strolling over the ground, with Eileen having promised to give him a hand with his potions homework, since although he'd had notes, he'd missed the labs. Beyond the fields, they watched Teddy and Ricky racing each other, tossing a quaffle between them as they headed for their brooms. "Procrastinating, again." Eileen half groaned.

"Teddy'll be fine." Alf was looking in the other direction, spying CJ sitting with his sister. Eileen followed his glance.

"Does it bother you?"

"Not in the least, though of course I won't be telling him that." Alf's eyes had a humorous glint. "Liv has always been very serious and determined; they're quite alike that way. But she's stable, like my Mum was; nothing ever fazes her. That's what he needs." Alf glanced at Eileen. "What's up with you and Matt, if you don't mind me asking?"

Eileen paused a moment, and shrugged. "I broke it off when we got back. I kept thinking about this last term, how we'd seemed to pair off and splinter the group. I didn't like it. Kept thinking that maybe if all of us hadn't been so busy pairing off we'd have noticed more what was up with him. Anyway, I decided that you lot were more important to me than Matt was." She looked again at CJ and Liv. "They're different. Liv's one of us. Even though she's younger."

"Yep. I don't see it disturbing the dynamic much if they get together." Alf admitted. "You think Teddy and Victoire will ever get together? I know she used to be obsessed with him."

Eileen gave that some consideration. "I'm not sure she is anymore. Liv would know better, of course, but I think Victiore's gotten over that. And Teddy…I think Teddy likes being a charming flirt more than he likes being a boyfriend."

"Agreed." Alf said, because everything Eileen said made perfect sense. "I like everything much better when we're not paired off anyway."

"Me, too." She added quickly. They looked at each other, and then Alf gave her his most evil grin.

"Of course, it sets CJ and Liv up for some serious pranks."

Eileen laughed out loud. "We'll plan that out, later. Potions first!"

"Slave driver!" Alf teased. But they headed together to the labs, not seeing that CJ was now watching them, an amused grin on his face.

WWWWWWW

Percy Weasley had been surprised to hear his wife whole-heartedly endorse the idea of his running for Minister. Less surprised, when she'd added, "At least it would keep you from fool-hardy suicide missions!" Still, it was nice to be supported like that, and he'd officially announced his candidacy last Wednesday. There would be a special election at the end of May.

Once he'd announced, he'd received an intriguing letter from Draco Malfoy.

"Greetings, Mr. Percy Weasley…

I know that you might be surprised to hear from me at the moment. But of course I am aware of my father's involvement in the latest threat to your family's health and well being. I wish I could say it surprised me, but it is sadly par for the course.

Your brother Ron approached me for ideas on how to best prevent his future enmity. I realize that as a wizard on the side of the light, it is hardly appropriate for me to suggest a death curse. Clearly, it would be preferable to bring him to trial to meet justice…only he seems to have as perfect a skill for evading justice as he has for finding dim-witted dark wizards to follow.

But something occurred to me, and as I expect you to soon find yourself in a well deserved position of power, I felt it might behoove me to bring it to your attention. I understand from Ron that the status of the fireworks that were shipped to Croatia has been kept quiet. I would suggest you take other measures. Namely, make it quite clear in Eastern Europe that this Filipowski fellow, with no help from the English Minister (technically true), secured the celebration and that it will certainly go on as planned. Shout it from the highest hilltops. Plant the rumor with the lowest hag.

Father has made a career of avoiding justice on the side of the light. But he never succeeded so well at the 'justice' of the dark. The people he was working with counted on him to foment chaos. If they are like most of their kind, they don't forgive failure easily.

I suppose I should feel something other than ambivalence about this. But you do reap what you sow in this world; I'd warned him that this would only end one way for him, eventually.

Please know that I hold your family in the highest regard, and count on my support in the upcoming election.

Draco Malfoy."

Percy smiled; a thin, but firm smile. Draco was right; Lucius had made his choices in his life. If he'd chosen wisely, then nothing Percy could do would harm him. If not, then he suspected Lucius's days were numbered.

Harry looked in the office with a grin. "Hey, boss!"

"Quit that. But here…fancy a quick trip to Croatia?" Percy asked handing Harry the letter.

Harry gave him a satisfied smile after reading the parchment. "With pleasure."

WWWWWWW

June 6th, Dubrovnik, Croatia.

The festivities were scheduled to begin shortly. High up in a well protected, VIP Box, George was with his wife and three sons. His two daughters had been left at home with their Grandmother, and even shy of a year they had 'voiced' strong opinions (in the form of a pair of exploding building blocks) about being left behind. Still, he couldn't see bringing them; after everything the Filipowski government had survived, he'd hate for his twins to bring the government down!

"You are comfortable, Mr. Weasley?" Filipowski arrived in, looking quite stately in native robes. "Security is in place, but not obtrusive, I hope?"

"We haven't noticed anybody watching us?" Michelle pointed out, confused.

Filipowski smiled. "That is because they are good at what they do." He leaned forward, glancing over at the two older boys who were looking over the vast fields of people with omnoculars, and not paying them any attention. "It is a moot point, in any event; the body of Lucius Malfoy was recovered from the river Bosna, just outside of Sarajevo."

"Ah." George looked over at CJ. "He told me earlier he'd had that feeling again, though not as violently. I'm not surprised."

Filipowski nodded once. "I must go about my duties…please, enjoy."

CJ looked back once Filipowski had departed. "We're right, aren't we?"

"Yes, he's gone." George said gently. "I do hope somebody can let Draco know."

CJ kept his eyes on George. "I think I can say pretty safely he won't be devastated. I don't think his childhood was a whole lot better than mine."

"Worse." Alf said. "He never got out of it."

Percy arrived then, also in his finest dress robes. He had won his election handily, with a surprising campaign promise: the institution of term limits. He would not be sworn in until the fall, however, so although he also had a security detail with him, he and Penny were on a long overdue vacation, and secured in Filipowski's private box with other political dignitaries.

"Well, Acting Minister Weasley…" George drawled. "Come to spend time with the commoners, have you?"

"You know I'd rather be sitting with you lot." Percy pretended, badly, to be annoyed at his new role. "Bunch of ass-kissing windbags."

"In your element, I see." George added, and he and Percy just laughed.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright." He added, as the laughter died down. "You are still my younger brother."

"I've worked for this night for too many years to miss it, Perce." He watched as Alf bounced Freddo up, while CJ tried to get the omnoculars to work for him. "But go on, now…you have duty to attend to."

"Just mind the dung bombs, George." Percy quipped, before leaving.

George wrapped an arm around Michelle, who snuggled in to him. "Having fun, love?"

She sighed delightedly. "This just might be the most beautiful place I've ever seen, George. Bluest water, whitest stones, greenest trees…Quite romantic!"

"Oi, watch that you lot!" Alf joked, throwing himself down in a chair beside George

CJ finished what Alf started. "I'm not sure we could handle triplets!" He sat on the side of Michelle, Freddo squirming around for a good view.

George and Michelle thwacked each of them, softly, on the head at the same time.

Shortly, Filipowski was opening the ceremonies…a festive parade of a variety of ethnic groups from the expansive list of countries represented by the Eastern European Federation. And then, with great flair, the fireworks began.

Of course, they were so much more than fireworks. A symphony of light and color, dynamic and almost alive as they filled the sky, crawling outwards to all ends of the horizon. George nodded along as each set went off, perfectly in tune with every single represented ethnic group, each note of music representing a different and carefully researched historic period. The cheers, mixed with a sense of awe, grew, and George grinned, excessively proud of his handiwork.

For half an hour it continued, leading in to an expansive, fanciful finale. But what the crowd wouldn't notice was the handful of particular fireworks he'd included…

"Hey, that's the twins!" Michelle gasped.

So it was…and they were followed by the likeness of Freddo…then CJ…then Michelle…and Alf. Subtle, not so that anybody who wasn't one of the family would notice, but very much there; very much an important part of who he was now.

And, finally, one last firework. Fred.

Fred, who had managed to give him everything that mattered to him now, simply by giving him Alf.

They were all speechless when it was done, though the crowds bellow were wild with their approval.

"Well done, Dad." Alf finally said.

"I think so." George said, smiling contentedly, though he kept his eyes on the spot where his twin's face had just faded away.

WWWWWWW

In the waiting room at King's Cross station, Fred Weasley was finally filled with the complete peace that he'd been missing since the day he'd arrived. He'd not been the most restless of waiting room occupants, but nevertheless he'd felt pulled by the other side more than most who had passed on.

Cedric, who had come to that place of peace in May, put a hand on Fred's shoulder. Tonight had been the first night he'd been back since George had saved his brother. But he'd known, somehow, that this would be the closure Fred needed, and Cedric was there for him.

"It's not like…" Cedric said, as Fred quietly turned off the monitor he'd watched for so long. "That he won't still feel you there."

"I know." Fred said, giving Cedric a very calm smile. "It's just nice to have it be his choice, instead of his need."

"You will see him again." Cedric added.

"Not for a good long time, I hope." Fred closed his eyes, and let his love flow out towards his brother and his son. "Not until there have been grandchildren, and maybe even great grandchildren, and an empire for them to inherit. Until then…I'll just have to find someone else to try my pranks out on!"

Cedric groaned, and together they left the waiting room behind.


	43. Epilogue

May, 2018

It had been nearly ten years since Alfred Weasley--then known as Alfred Woodruff--had stood uncertainly at the side of his mother's grave, wondering what on earth was to become of him. He'd had no way of knowing that that terrible day would mark the beginning of wonderful things, of a wonderful life and a wonderful family.

Then, he'd been a reedy, pale red-head scared out of his wits. Now, Alf was still thin, and still had the trademark copper-red hair of his family, but he was every bit of a man, confident and assured with who he was. He was well dressed, in neat grey trousers and a dark green pullover. There was something about him that turned women's heads; though not by any stretch classically good looking, he gave off an aura, particularly when he smiled, that attracted people to him. He was, in essence and behavior, a good person, even at the age of twenty.

He had just returned home for a visit for the summer...his half sister Liv and cousin Victoire were graduating from Hogwarts. And he was looking forward to being with his family, to the laughter and joy that seemed to permeate the Weasley clan. But he also had something pressing on his mind, and that is why his first visit on his return to England was to a grave site once more...in this instance, the grave of Fred Weasley, located on a hill at the outskirts of The Burrow.

"Hey, Dad." He said quietly, smiling at the grave and putting down a bunch of daisies. "They're spelled to squirt anyone who gets too close; I thought you'd get a kick out of that!"

He stood back a bit, looking down at the headstone, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Funny...he always referred to his biological father as Fred in most occasions...he'd never had the chance to meet the man, and while Fred had sired him, George WAS his father, in the very active, real, day to day sense. The only exception was when he was here...then Fred was Dad, and his father became, for conversation's sake, George.

"I've been away, as you know. That's why I haven't been visiting much. America's terrific; I'm in this special program to integrate wizards into the muggle world in special fields; I'm going to be a doctor. Well, a research physician, anyway...the plan between the ministry and the muggle authorities is to bring wizard principles to their processes. _My_ plan is to cure cancer...make sure you tell Mum that, will you?" Alf gave a dry smile to the headstone. "My professors consider me stubborn...can't imagine where I get that from."

He actually got down on his knees, then, on the clean spring grass, carefully pruning the area around the flowers he'd just set down. "So...other updates. George, Miss Shell, and the little kids are fine. The twins are an ungodly handful; he says even worse than the two of you were when you were little, because they're girls and even smarter. And CJ's coming back tomorrow...he's been with Charlie learning Dragon care as part of his Advanced Magical Creatures course. Finished now, though, and I wouldn't be surprised if George wants him to go on at Wheezes." Alf paused, as if about to say something, then he thought better of it.

"The company is doing fantastic. Seventeen branches throughout Europe and the US. And the WizVision project has started to take off. Rita Skeeter keeps writing columns about the elusive billionaire George Weasley, living in an obscure wizard village. You know Godric's Hollow has been protected from the media ever since Harry moved back there, right? Anyway, it makes me laugh...you'd never know how much money the family had from the house or anything. And I think they like it that way. George has everything he's ever wanted, except you, of course, and money won't buy that. It is funny, though...the night CJ had to destroy the building, what grew in its place mushroomed into an empire. It's as if love were rewarded. Or maybe I'm just sentimental that way."

Alf suddenly looked very seriously at the inscription on the headstone, and sighed. "And if I can pretend to know you at all, you'd probably be telling me to get to the point and stop procrastinating... because clearly I came here for a reason." Taking a deep breath, he went forward. "I need to have a conversation with George today that might not be very pleasant, and I'm not at all sure how he's going to react. Thing is, ten years ago he altered the papers on the store so that I would be listed as partner, once I came of age, because I was your heir. Essentially he gave me the portion that would have been yours. But, I'm no business man. And no inventor. Oh, I can come up with an idea or two sometimes, and lord knows I love being there; it really is the coolest place on earth. But I don't have the passion for it that George does; never seem to have that spark that he'll get when something hits him and he runs full tilt at it. And I don't have Uncle Ron's head for management and marketing, either; what he's done with his partnership is ruddy brilliant, and it's not me."

Alf sat back on his haunches, with a wry smile. "I know why they light up the way they do, though...it's the same way I feel when a potion has come out right, when a test has performed the way I expected. Heck, sometimes I feel that way when a test _hasn't_ performed right, because then it drives me to figure out what went on with it. When I'm at the microscope...that's a muggle tool...it's like this whole new world exists for me." He smiled at the granite stone. "I have a passion for it, Dad...and I think that what I need to do is follow my passion." Rising, he dusted himself off. "Anyway, my point is, I just want you to be around for George when I tell him. Long term I know he'll be fine, but he might be hurt at first, and I can't bear the idea of that. He's..." Alf became choked up. "He's everything to me. I don't know what I would have done or what I would have become if you hadn't had a twin. He is the greatest man I know, and not because of the money or anything. But..." Alf blinked, and forced himself to be calm. "I need to be what I am. And I know you have ways of communicating with him when he needs you. So consider yourself on alert that he might." He put his hands back in his pockets, and smiled down at the grave once more. "Love you."

Alf turned and ambled down the hillside, thinking he'd pop in to say hi to his Gran before apparating to Godric's Hollow. Just at the bottom of the hill, he paused and looked back at the grave he'd left. He wondered, briefly, how things might have been different if Fred had lived. He'd have moved right in with him, of course, and George just another Uncle, although maybe a particularly special one. When he was threatened by his squib status, it would have been Fred who moved to Salem with him. Fred who would have met Miss Shell, not George...and somehow that seemed wrong. But then, George would have married Angelina, wouldn't he have?

_Don't count on it, kid._ A voice seemed to come to him. _Even I could see that they were too darn stubborn to be together. They were never meant to be. But don't worry about what-ifs. Past stuff. And don't worry about George. It's not like you're telling him you want out of the family business so you can go sit on a beach and drink from coconuts. Now get yourself home...Freddo's waiting for you anxiously!_

Alf smiled, feeling a warmth inside. He'd never had that happen before, never felt so strongly Fred's presence like that. Of course, he might just be imagining what he wanted to hear. But why believe that, when there was such a wonderful other option to believe in?

"Later, Dad." He said, then turned and jogged over towards the house.

WWWWWWW

It was with a quiet pop that Alf appeared on the cul-de-sac in Godric's hollow; his bag slung over his shoulder. He looked around and felt that happy feeling he always had as he looked on his home.

George had put on an addition a few years back, but other than that the tidy little cape house was unchanged; the lawn in front neatly manicured with colorful flowerbeds; Alf knew that in back was an extensive vegetable garden that his father loved working in. The entire place had a quiet hush to it, not uncommon in wizarding communities. It truly did not appear to be the home of one of the wealthiest wizards in Great Britain, and he had no doubt that his dad liked it that way.

The hush was broken with a squeal of delight from his left, and Alf turned about to see a small boy leap the fence in one bound and come tearing up the yard towards him. Freddo, another reedy red-head in the family. "ALF! ALF'S HOME!" He shouted joyously, wide grin splitting his face.

Alf dropped his duffle at once and waited, arms out stretched, as Freddo leapt towards him; he caught him neatly and swung him around and around. "FREDDO! WHAT'S UP, BRO!" He laughed as Freddo giggled with excitement. He only stopped spinning when he felt his own stomach lurch, and then he lifted his little brother high; Freddo threw his arms around him and hugged him tight, as Alf pulled out his wand and levitated his duffel before him as he carried Freddo on his hip towards the house.

"You being good?" Alf asked, with a wink.

"Of course!" Freddo said. Then he gave a huge sigh, and leaned against Alf's shoulder in mock desperation. "But they are TORTURING me!"

No need to ask who 'they' were, and it wasn't Michelle and George. The twins, Molly and Katie, where absolute terrors. Now Freddo had his moments of mischief, but the now five-year old girls seem to have been born with full blown marauder status. And they loved pranking their big brother, who tried to take it good naturedly most of the time. They did not make it easy, however.

"What are they doing to you now, hm?" Alf asked, sympathetically.

"They hid all of my books this morning. Mum said they're jealous because I'm such a good reader, but it took us hours to find them...one was in the garden, two were in the back shed...there were four on the roof!" Freddo's eyes were wide. "I wouldn't hide their stuffed bunnies, why would they do that to me?"

"Probably want you to play with them a bit more, and thought that if your books were out of sight you would have no choice." Alf maneuvered the floating bag through the front door. "You do read quite a bit."

"But I _like_ to read." Freddo said, seriously. "It's so very interesting!"

"Is that you, Alf?" Michelle called out from the newly added playroom.

"Yes, Mother...the prodigal son has returned!" Alf teased out to her.

"Prodigal my arse!" She called back, coming through the doorway. She caught Alf's bag neatly and dropped it to the side, coming forward to kiss his cheek. "You look half starved." She worried at once.

"I miss Dad's cooking." Alf put Freddo down, and winked at him. "Have any papers for me to look at?"

Freddo beamed...he was in his first year of day school and had been saving up all his work to show his brother. "I'll go get my folder!" He said, excitedly; Alf smiled after him and followed his step-mother towards the kitchen, where he hopped up on a stool by the breakfast bar.

Michelle was already cutting him a heaping slice of strawberry pie. "Freddo's been talking about you and CJ coming home non-stop for the past week. He does miss you." She put the plate down in front of him, and leaned on the bar across. "Not that the rest of us don't."

"Mmm." Alf took the first bit of pie and closed his eyes in ecstasy. "I've missed the food."

Michelle cuffed him on the head gently. "Stop that." There was a huge clatter upstairs and a yelp from Freddo; Michelle closed her eyes and moaned. "Your sisters are going to be the death of me, Alfred!"

"Cheer up...they'll be at Hogwarts in a mere six years." He replied, earning himself another good-natured cuff as Michelle left to intercede.

WWWWWWW

George Weasley was an exceedingly content man, especially now that Alfred was home for the summer. His business was successful beyond his wildest hopes, it is true; he had more money than he ever would have believed possible when he was growing up. But what made him happiest was his wife and five kids; spending time in the back yard in his garden or in his kitchen cooking; laughing with his family over the recent exploits of their various offspring.

This night he was out back letting the dog run...Hagrid was trying to route out some gnomes...and waiting for Alf to come out to speak with him. George smiled; he knew Alfred sometimes better than Alf knew himself.

Sure enough...

"Hey, Dad." The young man came up beside him, much of the same height and build, though George's hair was showing the first sign of gray. "Nice night."

"Indeed." George said. "You going out tonight, I suppose?"

"Meeting Teddy down at the Cauldron for a bit. Bunch of us from school going to be there." Alf admitted. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all...I expected as such. Besides, you've already committed yourself to about fifteen of Freddo's youth quidditch matches. You need to have a night or two to yourself!" George's mouth twitched. It was so funny to remember that Alf had once feared George having kids of his own...Alf clearly adored Freddo, and the feeling was quite mutual. Thinking about Alf's evening, though, George dug into his pocket and tossed a set of keys to his oldest.

"What's this?" Alf asked, looking them over.

"To the flat over the store." George said. "CJ stays there sometimes when he's home, and I'd rather you not splinch yourself trying to get home late at night after a few beers."

Alf grinned at him. "Hasn't happened so far, but thanks."

They shared a few seconds of companionable silence; Rufus came over, wound around Alf's ankles until he picked him up and scratched behind the cat's ears. Together they watched the dog run, enjoying just being near each other. George gave Alf a quick glance. "Dating anyone?"

"Not seriously." Alf admitted. He had his share of dates, but to this point there wasn't anybody that just made him feel like she was THE ONE. And he expected there to be someone like that out there. He wasn't going to settle for anything less than what George and Michelle had. "I'm rather enjoying playing the field." He quipped.

"Breaking hearts all over America, are you, you cad?"

"Weasley charm...utterly irresistible." Alf laughed. At that moment a gnome darted across the yard, and Rufus shot away from him like an arrow.

"Michelle would like you to be settled down with a nice, steady girl." George slipped in, as they watched the chase.

"Whereas you would rather I took on a wild tramp?" Alf nudged him. "Seriously, though...I'd like to be settled down with a nice girl myself. But I thought I would wait until I found one. After all, if you'd hooked up at my age, I'd be calling Angelina Morgainne Mum!"

"Wiseass." George nudged him back.

"But an _honest_ wiseass." Alf pointed out, and they lapsed into silence once more. Finally, Alf took a deep breath. "Can I talk to you about something, Dad?"

George, rather than giving him a sarcastic answer back that he had been under the impression that they WERE talking, gave him a gentle, side-long look. He could see Alf was pretty nervous about something, and had the feeling that this wasn't a time for playful banter. "You can always talk to me." George put his hand on Alf shoulder, squeezing it firmly.

Alf nodded, and then headed over to the wrought iron bench by the rose trellis; putting his hands on his knees; George sat beside him.

"Right." Alf gave a short laugh, looking at the dirt between his feet. "I'm not one for Gryffindor bravery, I guess."

George reached over and touched under his chin, and lifted his head around. "You do not need to be brave to talk to me, Alf. Not ever."

Alf's blue eyes met his, clear and serious. He nodded once. "Okay, then. Dad...ten years ago you made me a partner in the store. You made sure I was getting what Fred would have left behind for me. And I appreciate that. But...I don't want it." Alf flushed a bright red as he realized how blunt that sounded. "I mean, I think it's wonderful...I think you're wonderful, and brilliant, but it isn't me...it's not what I am." He gave a little shake. "Dad...CJ should have the partnership. Not me. Please understand?"

George was looking quite seriously at Alf. "You don't want your share of the partnership?"

Alf swallowed hard, but shook his head slowly. "No, no I don't."

"And you realize how much money you'd be giving up by just walking away?" George repeated.

"Hundreds of thousands of Galleons, I'd imagine." Alf admitted, swallowing hard.

"A bit more than that. Your share of the partnership...which is only in Wheezes and not the side branches, at the moment...is currently valued at roughly two point eight million Galleons." George raised an eyebrow. "And you're willing to walk away from that?"

Alf gaped a little; he knew that he'd only inherited what Fred would have left, which was a third of the founding store. That that tiny piece of the corporation was so valuable was stunning. But still! "Dad, I'm going to go in to medicine. I want to continue working the muggle project. It's where I shine. It's where I belong. I'd be an adequate business man...but I'm a brilliant potions maker and researcher. Please try to understand?" He pleaded.

"Who said I didn't understand?" George put on a phony look of surprise. And reaching in to his jacket pocket, he pulled out a draft from Gringots, and handed it over. "Didn't you wonder how I knew so exactly what your chunk of the flagship was worth?"

Alf's hand shook as he beheld the slip of parchment. It was a transfer of funds, into a personal bank account in Alf's name, for exactly two point eight million Galleons. "DAD!" Alf gaped. "YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!"

George smiled at him. "For once, yes I can. That's YOURS, Alf; your right by birth. And I've anticipated this moment since the day you graduated from Hogwarts. I do know you, son. I see your brilliance, and I know where your talents lay. But if you think that just because you have different skills than I do, that I'd cheat you out of your rightful share, then I don't think you know me at all."

Alf's eyes flooded with tears, and he turned and embraced his father. "I don't care about the money, Dad." He said hoarsely. "I was afraid you'd be upset...and I'd never want to hurt you."

"Well, you haven't." George hugged him back, then held him by the shoulders to look at him. "I mean, honestly, it's not like the business is going to go belly up because I have nobody to carry on when I decide to retire. Even if Freddo continues to show a rather frightening tendency to follow in your footsteps, brain-wise, I have a feeling that the twins are more than up to the mischief level needed for the job. To say nothing of Ricky...he's already talking to me about a job and he's a year away from graduation."

Alf managed a smile, that faded as he looked down at the draft. "But what I really wanted was to give my share to CJ..." He said, softly.

George stroked Alf's cheek gently. "Do you not yet understand that my giving to you doesn't preclude me giving to him as well? I have bought out your share of the store, and I fully intend to make all provisions for CJ. And for the record, this..." He poked at the parchment. "...has nothing to do with any provision that I have left for you in my will. "

"Don't." Alf shivered slightly. "I don't want to think that way."

George smiled sadly at Alf, but didn't push the issue. He understood well enough that Alf had no desire to think of his death. He equally understood that sometimes death had other ideas...he'd learned that the hard way. "Anyway...the point is that this provision is because you are Fred's son. It has nothing to do with the fact that you are also mine. Understood?"

"Understood." Alf exhaled, feeling a huge burden slipping from his shoulders.

"As for CJ...I was planning on setting him in charge of a magical creature development division. It would seem to be perfect for him. I would make him a full out partner, but you know how he is...he'll get all flustered and panicky and insist he's not worthy of it." Alf laughed with George at this too accurate picture of CJ. "So we'll work him up to feeling worth of it. As for the money...I'd not hand every twenty year old that chunk of change. But I know you'll be prudent. Not that if you ever needed anything I wouldn't be there for you...after all, I am, as Rita Skeeter calls me, the Wizarding Bill Grates."

"Gates." Alf corrected; he had, after all, scored 215 on his Muggle Studies NEWTS.

"Whatever." George frowned. "Better that than that Murdoch fellow...I've caught him on the muggle news and I don't care for him at all."

"There is no way you're like Ruppert Murdoch. And even less like Bill Gates." Alf studied his father carefully. "Much more like Richard Branson...billionaire, visionary, considered quite the sexy catch in his day..."

"...now you're talking..."

"And daring. Man likes to jump out of airplanes. Without magic." Alf finished.

George looked at Alf carefully, to see if he was joking on that. Apparently not. "Alfred...if you want to live to see twenty-one, you will swear to me now that you will NEVER tell your grandfather that story!"

WWWWWWW

Alf, feeling much lighter and less burdened than he had earlier, headed towards the Leaky Cauldron with an extra spring in his step. He felt just a little foolish that he'd so underestimated his father, and the thought of the money he now had was quite dizzying. But George did know him well...his head was not filled with thoughts of extravagant items he could now purchase, but more content with knowing he pretty much had the freedom to follow whatever obscure medical research he chose, without worrying about his financial future.

His mood didn't make Alf any less aware of those around him, however, and as he easily navigated muggle London he was quite aware of more than one woman eyeing him. When it had first started happening in America it took him by surprise...he hadn't dated much at Hogwarts, and was more considered a good "friend" than potential boyfriend material. But somehow the years, and his own self assurance, added with his essential good nature, had changed that fact.

Dating in England, though, was different than dating in America. Women there knew him only for who he was, and he trusted that. Here, even if they didn't know his last name, they knew he was a Weasley. One of THE Weasleys, related to the owner of the most successful franchise in Britain and also to the Minister of Magic, in Uncle Percy. By seventh year he'd been aware that certain young ladies would throw themselves at him simply because of who his father was. The same young ladies who would ignore Teddy, no matter how good looking, because of who HIS father was. Well, no thank you to that; it wasn't worth the mindless snog, in Alf's opinion. He supposed other men wouldn't have cared so much.

So he was careful around women, even while he knew he attracted them. Though he wasn't adverse to a bit of flirting, certainly. Such were his thoughts as he stepped into the noisy interior of the Leaky Caudron, and spotted a young woman who he thought might be worth a bit of conversation.

Her back was to him; he couldn't see more than her profile in the dark bar. She had lovely, sleek black hair that was pulled back into a high ponytail and which cascaded down her back. She was in a snug fitting pale rose top that showed off modest curves, and long, lean legs beneath a neat black skirt. Sexy without advertising the fact, which in Alf's opinion was quite the best way to be. He also noticed her ears...well, the one ear that was to him; somehow he found ears particularly alluring; hers were small, with nice lobes from which dangled filigree earrings. She was watching WizVision (Dad's successful transcription of muggle television for Wizard use) intently, though all they were showing was the muggle news from yesterday. He decided to approach her, putting on his best flirty grin.

_No line. _Alf thought, as he came up to her. _I'd bet she's not a line kind of person. I'm just going to flat out ask her if I could buy her a glass of whatever she's drinking._

He was only a foot away from her when she turned around, and...

_BLOODY HELL!_

WWWWWWW

Eileen Prince was beyond happy to be back in England, and was looking forward to seeing her dearest friends this evening. She'd spent most of the past two years at an advanced healing school in Paris, and had seen Teddy and CJ rarely, and Alf not at all. It was rather ironic that Alf was in school in America; she went to the States to see her family on breaks, which of course was when he was back in England. Teddy and CJ had both crossed her paths on the Continent on occasion, during their own studies.

But she had a summer apprenticeship at St. Mungo's, working with Fleur Weasley in the maternity ward, and had just taken a neat little flat at the farthest reach of Diagon Alley. She'd run in to Teddy, who'd suggested she'd pop by the Cauldron, as Alf was due back. CJ would not be returning until tomorrow.

She was early...she was always early...and neither were there yet when she arrived. But she found herself entranced by George Weasley's newest property, the WizVision; and the muggle news today was covering the threat of a hurricane in New Orleans, her home town. It was rumored to be as potentially bad as Katrina, back in the beginning of the millennium, and there was concern that the new levees would not hold up. She thought they would, though; these were wizard built, not that muggles knew that.

A sensation came over her of being watched. Watched, and checked out. A fairly new experience for her in England, though it had been common enough in Paris: Frenchmen were the same, wizard or muggle! And she decided, right at that moment, that a little harmless flirting wouldn't be a bad thing. Unless he was a complete cad, of course...but her sixth sense was telling her that was not the case; she could almost feel other women in the bar turning to look at her suitor with envy. Anyway, it wouldn't hurt to let him buy her a beer, right?

She planted her flirtiest smile on, and turned to look at her visitor...BLOODY HELL!

"Alf??" She covered her momentary shock quickly she hoped, and let her flirty smile turn to her regular one.

"Eileen!" He gaped at her for a second, not recovering as quickly as she had, and then he reached over and gave her shoulder a little punch that somehow seemed strange, though it was exactly what they would have done two years ago quite easily. "I had no IDEA you were in town!"

"Teddy wanted to surprise you." She said, swinging around and feeling suddenly self conscious of her legs, which she crossed and tucked around the bar stool. Alf came in and leaned on the bar next to her, a slight blush still on his face. "So...how have you been? I want to hear all about your studies..." She motioned to Tom for another round.

Alf gratefully accepted the pint, and downed half of it in one gulp. Then, taking a deep breath, he began telling her about his program.

Eileen smiled and nodded and pretended to be listening. Really, she was studying her friend. In some ways Alf was unchanged, but in others it seemed like he had changed completely. His hair, for instance; of course it had always been red...but had it always been such a color? That new penny copper with a high shine to it? And had it always curled like that, that little wave that settled around his head and against his neck?

And his eyes were blue, plain old blue like they always were. But it didn't seem so plain tonight. There was a depth there, a kindness, an intelligence, and a spark that she liked. Certainly Alf had always been kind and smart and funny...she just never realized how much it showed in his eyes.

Maybe his eyes were set off because of his shirt, a hunter green waffle knit pullover. Maybe she'd just gotten used to him in school robes, but that shirt! Now, she'd always known Alf had been an incredible athlete, but somehow she'd never understood what that would do to his build. Or she'd been completely blind at school. But he was trim and fit, muscular without being bulky, the perfect build for a keeper, and somehow the shirt hugged him perfectly. The vee neck, too...as he spoke she found herself watching how his adam's apple bobbed up and down; she had a sudden desire to reach over and nuzzle...

WHAT WAS SHE THINKING? This was Alf, one of her oldest friends, someone who was like a bloody brother to her. She could not possibly find him sexy, it was utterly indecent!

With effort, and with a blush coming up in her face, she fought to focus on what Alf was actually saying, and tried like hell to forget everything else.

WWWWWWW

_I am an idiot, an idiot, an idiot._

_And I am talking much too much._

The shock at discovering that the woman who he had been borderline lusting for was one of his best friends had totally thrown Alf, and he knew full well he had not recovered. Not that anything seemed to have phased Ei, she had, after a second's surprise of seeing him (though she had a momentary blush on her face, rather surprising), given him her sweet smile and looked perfectly at ease. He was not at ease, though; he gave her an awkward arm punch that seemed wrong when three minutes earlier he was wondering what her hair would feel like. And he downed his beer in a couple of gulps.

But Eileen, ever sensible, asked him the usual questions about his school work; their courses of study were actually quite similar, though Alf was in research; and it was not surprising that it would be of interest. So he started talking to her about what he was working on.

And talking, and talking...he was babbling like a fool. Eileen must wonder what the hell had happened to him, to turn him into a walking piece of verbal diarrhea. And yet he couldn't stop...was scared to death what would happen if he stopped talking.

Like if he stopped talking he might go back to thinking that her lips were about the most perfect thing he'd ever seen. The silence might let him resume wondering about the silkiness of her hair, about the little tiny hairs that had escaped her ponytail at the base of her neck, curling slightly. Then there was how those earrings dangled and danced on her dainty ears...exceptionally distracting, and if he stopped talking he might just actually reach out and touch one.

And the fact of her perfume...a sweet mix that resembled wildflowers, not heavy and not cloying, but somehow as if she had just spent the afternoon rolling in a meadow somewhere...naked...

WHOA!

THAT thought had to stop at once...and he blinked away the image that came to him, and turned back to Tom. "Another pint...and one for the lady as well." He made certain he kept eyes on the bartender, because that was the only way he would ever get that vision out of his head. "So...you around for long?"

"All summer..." And he listened, with occasional, quick glances, as she detailed her apprenticeship.

It was bloody awkward, and Alf felt like a first class jerk. But the spell was suddenly broken when...

"Boy, they'll let anybody in this place nowadays!"

Teddy. Thank heavens.

And slowly, with the ease of Teddy's good humor, things became normal. Alf became normal; Eileen, really, had always been normal; it was all him acting stupid. But they were three of the four once more, only wanting for CJ's presence to make the group complete. That whole little...misunderstanding...was exactly that, and would soon be forgotten. It had to be.

WWWWWWW

Eileen was relieved to see that once Teddy got there, within minutes everything became normal. A very good thing, or else she'd have had to excuse herself to take a cold shower. For a minute there she'd been afraid she'd actually jump Alf, and that would have been terrible; clearly he had no such feelings for her.

But the rest of the evening passed quite pleasantly. A few old school chums stopped in and greeted them, and it became a mini reunion. Teddy looked fantastic; tall and tan, going with his golden brown hair close to natural; in fact, his easy good looks were mostly natural now, unlike those days when he'd been pretending to be a demi-god in order to hid his illness. Several women turned to look at him, eyeing him up and down, but to no purpose: For two years now, Teddy's heart had belonged entirely to Victoire Weasley.

All good things must end, however, and it was with a gasp that she realized it was nearly two in the morning. She didn't have to work tomorrow, thankfully, but it was still a long walk home down Diagon Alley, and she'd never been able to apparate very well.

"You heading back to the hollow?" Teddy asked Alf, as they began to close out the tab.

Alf appeared to think for a second. "Dad gave me keys to the flat over the store...you're welcome to stay over, if you don't want to risk apparating."

Teddy scoffed. "I've had two beers in five hours; if I can't apparate after that I don't deserve my license. Besides, Victoire's coming over for breakfast tomorrow" He blushed faintly, and Alf and Eileen both snickered.

As they worked out a tip, Teddy asked Eileen how she was getting home. "Hopefully, there'll be a cab for hire on the other side...but if not, I'll hoof it."

Alf balked at once. "To the far end of Diagon Alley at this time of night? Don't be absurd."

She leveled a firm glance at him. "I am not inept, you know."

"Never said you were. Nevertheless, as I'm staying over the shop anyway, I'll walk you out. If we can't get you a cab, I can always fly you home once I get my broom."

Which was actually a relief, she supposed; she hadn't looked forward to so long a walk.

"Always the gentleman, making me look bad." Teddy teased.

"It's my job." Alf retorted, throwing his jacket on; Eileen couldn't help but notice how sharp he looked.

Damn, there it was again. She made a point of paying attention to her own jacket, and headed towards the back exit with Alf, after giving Teddy a hug. Teddy seemed to give her a rather quizzical look that she just didn't understand at all...unless, she thought as she walked towards the back wall where Alf was waiting, he had read her thoughts about Alf. Now THAT was mortifying!

Alf smiled as she came up next to him. "I'll never forget the first time I came through this wall...I was ten years old and on my own, with no clue that the world of magic even existed..." He tapped the bricks in quick order, and the archway began to appear. "I nearly passed out when I saw what lay ahead."

"Must have been shocking." Eileen walked through the exit with him, and the two of them headed in to the pleasantly cool evening. "So...you think Teddy is going to ask Victoire to marry him, now that she's graduated?" Eileen hoped that by talking about others, she'd keep any awkwardness away.

"It's just a matter of time." Alf replied. Then he gave a half chuckle. "She told me when she was eight years old that she meant to marry him; it just took a rather circuitous route!"

Eileen snorted. "I'll say. Remember how Teddy spent the first half of seventh year begging her to agree to go to the Yule Ball with him?" Oh, those days...for, all of sixth year, Teddy had dated various girls, because he still thought of Victoire as a kid, albeit a good one. Meanwhile, CJ had just kept smirking behind his back as he dated Liv. And then, first day seventh year, Victoire had turned the corner to get on the train, and it had been like Teddy had never seen her before. And, with the frantic realization that he'd been a fool for too long, he'd started asking her out, only to be rebuffed over and over again. Alf remembered it as well.

"Yep...she kept insisting that Teddy ought to be asking a seventh year who was more worthy of him." Alf shook his head. "Boy, she played that one right...Teddy had assumed she'd say yes, and when she kept turning him down it made him crazy. What was it, the day before the ball when she finally agreed?"

"And then it turned out she had a dress the entire time." Eileen lost herself in the memory, of a relieved Teddy waiting for Victoire, and Victoire coming out looking like a fairy princess, in shimmering lavender that offset her strawberry blonde beauty perfectly. "Lucky for CJ that he had an easier time of it." She added.

"Mmm." Alf stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. "He mentioned to me before fifth year that he had a bit of a crush on her...things got ugly, though, with that vow he was fighting. It bugged the crap out of me that he was dating somebody else instead of her." Alf chuckled lightly. "Then, after he came through it okay, he asked my permission to formally date her."

"No...she'd kill him if she knew!" She gasped, grinning widely.

"Not as badly as I'd have killed him if I found him snogging my sister with no warning!" Alf tried to look stern, and then failed, giving back in to his good natured smile. "Seriously, though...they've always been perfect for each other."

"Total understanding between them." Eileen nodded, refusing to give in to a certain wistfulness. "It was funny, though, how by the time seventh year came around all the girls suddenly noticed CJ, and he just couldn't be bothered."

"Well of course not. They'd considered him antisocial before, then suddenly he was the strong silent type. All bullshit." Alf had understood CJ's disdain for women who showed an interest in him only after he'd hit six feet tall and fully grown in to the same good looks that his eldest brother had been renowned for.

"The four of them were quite disgusting the night of the ball, though." Eileen added, remembering how often it seemed both couples had managed to get themselves lost in hidden alcoves, groping furiously.

"Yes, but fortunately they had the two of us to prevent them from getting carried away." Alf deadpanned, and Eileen laughed at the memory.

"That they didn't kill us is quite remarkable." She admitted.

Eileen hadn't had a boyfriend then; she'd dated once or twice, but mostly found the boys of Hogwarts, beyond her close friends, to be juvenile. Alf, also, had been dateless for the ball that year...he'd had a brief stint with Maeve Kearne for a bit but broke it off in November because he found her 'too damned _clingy_.' Once CJ and Liv, and Teddy and Victoire, had paired off, Alf and she had shrugged and decided, over a library project, that they would just go with each other, and have a good time.

And they had...they had had a great time. They danced all of the fast dances, got punch during the slow dances, and followed their friends around to prank them whenever they got too lost in the snogging. "I bet we had more fun than they did!" She added, getting lost in the memory.

"Not surprising, considering that I convinced Peeves to douse Teddy and Fleur with chocolate sauce, and that we set of a firecracker near Liv and CJ, startling them to the point where CJ fell into the fountain." Alf kicked at a stone playfully. "How long were we in detention for?"

"A week, scrubbing cauldrons. My poor dishpan hands!" She lamented, though with a deep smile on our face. "It was supposed to be two weeks, but we were making Professor Morgainne so crazy with our laughter that she got sick of us."

"You always laughed at my jokes." Alf gave her a curious look.

"You were always funny." She shot him an impish look back. "Don't know what's happened to you now."

They lapsed in to silence again; the night was fine, and the sky full of stars, with not another soul to be seen, as they came upon the new and improved Wheezes. Alf dug for the keys. "I'll just pop up and get a broom...there are usually extras in the front closet..." He dropped the ring suddenly, and Eileen bent over to pick them up for him.

He did the same, and they bumped each other, both exclaiming "OW!" at the same time, rubbing their heads and laughing. "Hell, woman...your cranium is solid steel!"

"Then yours must be cement!" She retorted. "Because my steel is dented!"

"Here, let me see..." Alf came forward to look at her, and brushed her hair off her forehead.

And it was back. And it wasn't going away this time. Eileen caught her breath. If only he hadn't touched her...if only he wasn't standing so close, smelling so nice and looking so good. Then she could have forgotten her rather desperate feelings that suddenly would not be denied.

But he touched her. And his mouth was just inches from hers. And she had to.

She kissed him.

WWWWWWW

Alf thought he might get out of this cleanly. His new, and obviously unrequited feelings for one of his best friends simply could not be given in to. And they were doing it...they were walking along and laughing together like old times, with no untoward behavior on his part. And then he touched her. They had bumped heads, and he really only wanted to make sure she was okay. But when he'd touched her, it was like a bolt of lightening coursing through his veins. His mouth went dry, and every nerve stood on end, tingling through him from his toes to the roots of his hair.

_I can't kiss her...I can't kiss her...I can't..._

She kissed him, and then all bets were off.

He responded. He HAD to. She kissed him. She KISSED him, and he was kissing her back; and then her arms wrapped around him, fingers running through his hair, and he moved his own arms around her back, and then lower, lifting her up and towards him, pushing her back against the entryway of the building.

They came up for air after several minutes, at the same time, both gasping with the effort, both trembling with desire. Alf looked into her eyes, which seemed to be dark pools, and he said, rather shakily, "Is it a completely stupid question to ask if you want to come upstairs, Ei?"

Eileen squeezed even more closely against him, making him shudder. "If you don't get that door open within two minutes, I will blow it off its hinges myself, Alf!"

WWWWWWW

CJ opened the door to the flat, not entirely surprised that the door to the upstairs was unlocked. He'd chatted with Dad by floo before he'd left Romania, and George had warned that he had encouraged Alf to crash there if the event at the Cauldron had run too late.

Wincing, he rubbed his injured arm. Just as well to floo here first; and if Alf were about, he'd have his brother take a look at his wound. A Hungarian Horntail had rather resented his inspection of her nest, and though CJ was quick, he'd not been quite quick enough. He knew Mum was going to go ballistic over it, particularly if she sensed that injury had not been well tended to (and he guessed that she would regard anybody other than her putting him back together as unqualified).

She could hardly complain, though, if he told her Alf had set the dressing!

He checked his watch and saw it was nearly eleven...funny Alf wasn't up yet. He was usually much more of a morning person than CJ!

At that moment a high pitched giggle reached his ears.

Alf didn't giggle.

CJ raised both eyebrows in surprise; Dad hadn't mentioned a girlfriend, nor had Alf mentioned one in his frequent letters. And Alf was assuredly not one for a one night stand! Yet...CJ bent over and picked up a pale rose shirt, definitely feminine, and taking a few steps forward, retrieved a black skirt as well. Most definitely not Alf's...although the corresponding dark green pullover might very well be. CJ continued to follow the clothing trail towards the bedroom.

Another giggle and a deeper laugh answered...most definitely Alf's laugh. CJ paused, wondering what the best thing to do would be, when the door flew open...

Eileen Prince had her back to him, wearing one of Alf's favorite tee shirts. "No, you can't have it back!" She quipped. "It's mine, now!"

Alf, with only eyes for Eileen, wrapped his arms around her. "That's okay, because I have you. _MyEileen.." _He murmured, making it sound like one word.

"Ahem." CJ cleared his throat loudly. "I am afraid I am trying to think up a suitable greeting here, and failing."

Eileen let out another shriek, this one of shock, and she darted behind Alf, who at least was in a robe. He was blushing furiously, as he blinked without full comprehension at CJ. CJ just stood there, his smile rapidly growing. This was utterly priceless!

Alf, of course, found a way to try to get out of the awkward conversation. "Hey...what the bloody hell did you do to your arm?"

"Dragon injury. Um, when you get a chance, I'd like you to take a look at it so Mum doesn't flip. And by the way, it's nearly eleven and we have to be at Hogwarts by 3." He looked over Alf's shoulder. "I assume you'll be attending the ceremonies as well, Leenie?" He said, quite calmly, somehow managing not to smirk.

"Um...yeah...I think I need to go home and change..." She murmured, still from behind Alf's back.

"Then you'll need these." CJ's eyes twinkled, as he handed Alf Eileen's clothing, and then he turned and went back to the kitchen to make coffee.

Half an hour later, a flustered Eileen had hurried off, and Alf had, with phony calm, come over to CJ to look over up his injured arm. CJ was content to let Alf work without comment, mostly because he hadn't quite decided which of the hundreds of possible lines he was going to use.

Alf was aided in his need to carry this off nonchalantly by the medical work...once he was in the midst of treating a patient, he was able to shut out the rest of the world. "They didn't do too badly over there." He said, spreading some paste that frankly burned like hell on the gash. "But we don't want to risk any infection...and the method of wrapping was frankly strange!"

"Yeah, well...when your arm is being tended to by a one-armed medi-witch, the work is bound to be sloppy." He grimaced as Alf wrapped the gash up tightly. "But I figured Mum would go bats if she saw it looking like that."

"No doubt." Alf finished with a flourish. "Um, about last night…" He started, rubbing at his neck sheepishly.

"You know, I think I've finally come up with a suitable response." CJ drawled out, rolling his sleeve down. "How about, _it's about bloody time, you clueless git_!"

Alf laughed, leaning against the counter, still rather pink about the whole thing. "This must seem pretty weird." He admitted.

"Only to you two." CJ pointed out. "The rest of us have been expecting this for some time."

"Really?" Alf asked, clearly surprised. "I mean, why? We've been friends forever, but why would you think that we'd end up something more?"

CJ considered the many points in time where Eileen and Alf had been totally in sympathy with each other, how often she had picked up on his moods and his needs when nobody else did, how often he understood her when the rest of them were clueless. And of course, CJ had had his own reasons for wanting to believe that Alf and Eileen were destined for each other. But he doubted Alf would really understand any of that. "Never mind. You just had to find your own way to each other, I guess...just like it took Teddy time to really see Victoire. And...I'm happy for you." He added, giving Alf a firm smile. "It's perfect, actually..." CJ hesitated, then plunged ahead. "It will make my wedding party so much easier to arrange."

That took a second to sink in. "You and Liv?" Alf asked, blinking once or twice.

"If she says yes...And assuming her older brother has no objections…" CJ shrugged a bit, then dug a neat little box out of his pocket. It held a solitaire diamond ring, perfect in its simplicity.

"She will…and he doesn't." Alf smiled, leaving CJ almost giddy in relief. "Although explaining to my offspring someday that my brother married my sister, and why that's no problem, is going to be interesting."

"Hell, for our entire family, you need a road map to figure out which end is up. Nothing new there!" CJ picked up on Alf's comment as he thought it over. "Um, offspring?"

Alf laughed. "Hell, yes...I'm thinking at least one boy and one girl, with Eileen's looks and my brains. Or do you think I'm rushing in to things?"

CJ just smirked, and thought to himself, _It's been eight years since I realized you two belonged together. I don't think 'rush' is the word I'd use!_

WWWWWWW

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Diagon Alley Superstore, was closed for the evening, for a 'private family function.'

Namely, George had decided to turn the lower level into the post-graduation party for the entire family. After all, Liv's father Billy was hardly equipped to throw a proper wizard event (though he had been willing to cater in the food). And Shell Cottage remained, now as always, in the care of a secret keeper. Because, as Percy said, one never knew when there would be a need for the Weasleys to get themselves in to a bit of a hot spot. They did so have a tendency to do that.

George watched with pride as the extended family turned out, making the place as loud and raucous as any Christmas rush. The youngest children...for the time being...were his own twins, who were fortunately confined to the play area for youngsters he'd put in during the rebuild. Freddo and Percy's son Cedric were in there as well, trying to avoid the girls' zinging spells as best they could, and showing remarkable forbearance.

Just beyond, the older kids were in a rousing game of exploding snap, with James trying to be bossy and Albus, Rosie and Perri telling him off on a regular basis. Lily and Hugo, meanwhile, were up to _something_, that something clearly instigated by Lily, and George was content to just watch it develop.

Michelle came up next to him, giving his arm a squeeze. "Did you hear about Alf and Eileen?" She asked, excitedly.

"Yes, and to quote CJ, about bloody time." George grinned, looking over at the four-house foursome, as he'd heard Michelle refer to them in their day. CJ, Teddy, Alf and Eileen. With Alf and Eileen fitting together like two puzzle pieces, and Teddy and CJ laughing at them. "And speaking of CJ..." George started.

At that moment, Katie and Mollie came up to him, having 'escaped' the play area.

"Daddy, did you hear..." Katie started

"About CJ and Liv?" Mollie hurried in.

"I'm gonna be a flower girl..." Katie jumped up and down.

"Me too..." Mollie insisted.

"We're gonna wear PINK!"

"With purple ribbons..."

"And a giant hair bow!"

"IT'LL BE WICKED!" The last bit they spoke together.

"Um, I think it's actually Liv that gets to decide what you two are wearing." Michelle's eyes were wide at the picture their description had presented.

"And, I think it's up to your mother and I if you get to do it at all." George said, with raised eyebrows. "So I think that I know certain young ladies who might want to be careful about keeping their room clean, and listening to their parents, and not hexing their brother..."

Katie squeaked, and Mollie put her hands over her mouth, and then both of them rushed into the play area.

"Freddo...don't touch that..."

"...orange ball!"

George laughed, even as Michelle put her head in her hands, and a puff of smoke emanated from the play area.

"Mollie, Katie!" Freddo's voice was exasperated. "You turned me BLUE!"

George grinned as he saw Alf move to go in to rescue his little brother. Michelle looked up at George. "When is that wedding?"

"A year from now, CJ said. That's a year's worth of leverage we have, anyway." George sighed, leaning over to touch Michelle's forehead. "And just a few more years after that until they start school. Just think of the unimaginable quiet we'll have then!"

"Right, except for the repeated howlers from Headmaster Longbottom." She quipped, for Minerva had just retired. "And I wouldn't count on the quiet either, George. I would expect to have a grandchild by then..." Her eyes wandered over towards Eileen, who was holding on to a distressed Freddo while Alf tried to remove the curse. "Or two."

WWWWWWW

CJ watched, standing beside Teddy, as Alf finished restoring Freddo to a normal color. Eileen gave Freddo a big hug, and told him he was an excellent patient, and he heard Alf warning him about not exacting revenge. "At least not too obviously." Alf continued under his breath, as he headed back over to Teddy and CJ. Eileen joined them, and he intertwined his hand with hers.

Victoire and Liv were still having photos taken of them from every respective angle by the very proud Bill Weasley and Billy Woodruff. A stocky boy CJ had never seen before was eyeing things curiously; then he spotted Alf and, with a start, headed over.

"My half brother." Alf explained to his friends. "Len."

He hadn't seen Len since the day after his mother's funeral, when his step father had put him on that train to London. He'd been an annoying six year old then, whinny and petulant, and had all the imagination of a slug. Now, he was a burly sixteen year old, who looked like he'd make an excellent Quidditch beater.

Len had Billy's olive skin and dark hair and eyes; he also had his cautious speech. "Hey." He said to Alf, choosing his words carefully. "Um, it's been a while. Though Liv talks about you all the time."

"Len." Alf held out his hand. "You've gotten a bit bigger than last I saw you."

To Alf's surprise, Len flashed a smile. "I would hope I had." Len looked around at the store. "It's so much bigger than I pictured it, from the stories Mum told. The store, I mean."

CJ coughed lightly, and Alf explained, "It's not the one she would have known, Len. That building was destroyed a few years back. This is all new." Then, Alf thought about what Len had said. "I'm surprised you pictured it at all. You never did seem to listen to them much."

Len gave a little shrug. "I'd pretend to not listen. She seemed to be telling them to you; sometimes I felt like I was just an afterthought." And then he sighed, looking around. "It's hard to believe, but it's pretty awesome, just the same. I wish, sometimes, that I...:" His voice trailed off in confusion.

Alf felt for Len, perhaps for the first time. It had never occurred to him that Len might have been envious of him, envious of Katie's attention to him, when they were little. Certainly Alf hadn't seemed to be magical...indeed, Katie had thought that he was a squib...but somehow unconsciously his Mum must have let Len see that Alf was different. "Then what would your Dad have done, Len?" Alf pointed out. "You take after him, is all. And I bet he's needed you, these years."

Len looked over at Alf. "Dad says you're going to be a doctor, and cure cancer. For Mum."

"That's my plan." Alf gave him a grin. "As ambitious and absurd as it might seem."

"I hope you do." Len replied. Then he turned as Billy called out to him, heading for the back room where the food was being arranged. "See you over dinner."

Liv and Victoire were heading for them, just a few seconds later, and there was a lot of laughter and giggling as Teddy and CJ teased them both, and they in turn teased Alf and Eileen. From the back room, Molly Weasley called everyone in to dinner. CJ grabbed hold of Alf, though, and pulled him to the back of the group.

"What?" Alf asked, as they were quickly the only ones left on the main floor.

"Alf…Dad's offered me my own department." CJ said, sounding anxious about it.

Alf just grinned. "Of course he did. And you deserve it."

"I…" CJ hesitated. "I'm not sure I do, really."

"Shut up." Alf said, crossing his arms. "Dad, as you may have noticed, is a pretty astute business man. He doesn't make dumb decisions. Never has."

"Right." CJ rubbed the back of his neck. "Said he wanted to make me a partner, but knew that would freak me out…" He gave a short laugh. "He's not wrong there, either. But maybe someday…"

"Someday." Alf squeezed his shoulder. "When you realize what you're worth, to us all."

"You don't regret giving up your share?" CJ asked, needing to be sure.

"Never." Alf sighed, looking around the store. "I'm leaving the business to those who can most make it thrive, and there isn't a better testament to Wheezes than that."

CJ looked around the store, with a fond smile. "I've always dreamed of this day, you know. Literally, Alf; only time I've ever given divination any kind of credence."

Alf thought it over, remembering his day at the grave. "Not sure it's divination, Ceej. Those who have moved on…sometimes I feel like they have their own way of looking out for us, when they can. The key, I think, is being smart enough to listen."

"Maybe." CJ agreed.

Ricky stuck his head through the doorway. "Oi, you lot…better get in here soon or you'll be left with the corned beef."

CJ laughed, as Alf looked horrified. "But I like corned beef." CJ quipped.

"Black sheep." Alf teased. "C'mon, let's go."

They left the room behind.

There was quiet in the room then. Quiet only interrupted by the snuffling sounds of a pen full of pygmy puffs. And on one wall, a grouping of magical photos from various years of the store moved about. In the center one, two young men stood together, tall and proud in Magenta robes. They had identical faces and identical smiles; one's robe showed a large F, and the other a large G. It was their first store, the old store, that they stood in front of, and both waved enthusiastically, in the manner of magical photographs.

For a moment, the one wearing the F paused in his waving. He looked outward, and blinking once, wiped at his eyes, though his smile never wavered. And then he resumed his stance beside his twin, giving George rabbit ears behind his back.

And from the next room, the sounds of life, of laughter, and of love, continued on.


End file.
